


Born to Die

by ouiser_boudreaux



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: BAMF Darcy Lewis, Drunk!Everyone tbh, Drunk!Loki, F/M, Getting the Band Back Together, Idiots in Love, Slow Build, buddy comedy with sexual tension is a genre right, canon adjacent?, drunk!Darcy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 20:19:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14901305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ouiser_boudreaux/pseuds/ouiser_boudreaux
Summary: Darcy, wracked with grief over Jane's disappearance post-Thanos, turns to anything and everything to try and get her friend back. What she summons instead is a little more than she bargained for.(Ongoing playlist for this fic at: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3P8768QDopgwVihX4BOgpf)





	1. In All the Wrong Places

**Author's Note:**

> I saw Infinity War and that first scene had me in my FEELINGS but then someone mentioned Valhalla and oops here I am writing fic of Darcy dabbling in witchcraft and Loki not actually being dead? So here y'all go, enjoy my coping mechanism.

Darcy Lewis was not one normally given to maudlin emotion. Where most of her late-night pity parties were brought on by irony, intoxication, or a combination of the two, she was absolutely flummoxed about how to fully handle herself these days. After all, watching your best friend disappear before your eyes in a cloud of dust  _ hurt _ . There was no way to snark out of it. There was no way to rationalize any of it, because rational thought went out the window when the world seemed caught in the clutches of a far more sadistically indifferent version of the Rapture chic that was de rigueur in the early aughts. Whiskey and wine were no longer the linchpins of emotional outburst; they were a dam, a numbing effect to keep from spiraling completely out of control.

 

They were also the only logical explanation for the box sitting outside her apartment door on Monday morning, two months after the chaos wrought by Thanos. "Could've taken Jeff Bezos with him," Darcy muttered to herself as she bent to lift the ubiquitous Amazon-stamped package. She looked at the shipping label to find that her name was, indeed, on it. She decided to avoid looking at her credit card statement and instead plunked the box on her coffee table and went looking for something to cut it open.

 

As she pulled the package's contents out one by one, she tried to remember when the  _ hell _ she thought any of these items were a good idea or even useful. There were enough tea lights to push the limits of the fire code, multicolored votives cryptically labeled "spell candles," a small pewter cauldron, a mirror, and assorted other Wiccan-flavored odds and ends. At the very bottom of the box was a bag that apparently contained rune stones. "No more Malbec after midnight," she said, shaking the stones from the bag and spreading them out over the table.

 

Of course, there was no book of any kind included. Darcy, much to Jane's constant frustration, was a steadfast denier of instruction manuals.  _ They're written for a reason _ , Jane had always said.  _ One day you're going to blow something up or hurt yourself or hurt ME _ .

 

Thinking about Jane sent a pang down to Darcy's gut. She swallowed the lump in her throat and looked at the array of ill-advised late-night purchases spread out on her coffee table. If she stretched her imagination just a little bit, she could invent some kind of ritual that used them all.

 

Dabbling in witchcraft wasn't exactly  _ new _ to Darcy, as she was a certified Weird Girl who'd tried out all kinds of alternative shit in high school, but she'd never taken any real stock in it. It was something fun she did at parties, something she used to shock her parents. Apparently, something about it had come rushing back late one night - and not too long ago, as she somehow still had a Prime subscription - and the best she could figure was that she was looking for a way to talk to Jane.

 

Darcy stood. She needed coffee, fresh air, and to go looking for a damn instruction manual.

 

* * *

 

 

Life since Thanos had been chaotic, to say the least. A lot of people went to find religion, thanks to the indelible remnants of Left Behind on the cultural consciousness, but after years of spending time with Jane Foster and Erik Selvig, Darcy knew there wasn't exactly a Judeo-Christian God in charge of things. She wasn't exactly sure  _ who _ was in charge, but after seeing demigods fall from the sky and bonafide aliens leveling New York City, she'd learned to expand her world view just a tiny bit.

 

Still, this world view didn't exactly seem like one that could include woo-woo witchcraft. She sat in the park with a distressingly bad Americano and some books on Norse mythology and spirituality she'd grabbed at random from the closest bookstore. The rune stones must have meant something, she reasoned, and the Norse pantheon seemed like the best place to start.

 

What kind of life is one living when they've been buddy-buddy with a member of a pantheon, though?

 

Jane hadn't talked much about Asgard after her return, no matter how much Darcy pried. And oh, how she’d pried. After a while, she assumed that Jane’s reticence had to do with breaking up with Thor. No matter how dangerous it might be to date a demigod, it had to have been hard to let those washboard abs go.

 

But she knew, beneath the snark, beneath the righteous objectification of the God of Thunder, that there was more than just danger involved with the Asgardians. Jane had briefly mentioned Thor’s brother, Loki, and was even more tight-lipped about how  _ that _ whole situation had panned out. (After a couple of shots and Darcy’s nagging, she’d admitted that he was just as handsome as Thor, but far more trouble than he was worth.) There’d been neither hide nor hair of him since, and as far as Darcy could tell, he’d probably been wiped out too. Not too many left with any ties to the Avengers, really.

 

Darcy chugged her coffee and suddenly felt exceptionally significant, which led to her feeling exceptionally uncomfortable. None of this was making sense. She crammed the books back into their shopping bag and started back home. Instruction manuals were overrated.

 

* * *

 

 

Darcy sipped her wine and began lighting the tea lights. She'd arranged them in the rough approximation of a circle around herself with room to spare in case she managed to make this work.

 

Make it work. Summon Jane. Because she couldn't be dead, right? There was no way. Disappearing into dust didn’t feel like death. Darcy was convinced that there was an alternate dimension out there, somewhere, and all she had to do was magic her own version of an Einstein-Rosen bridge.

 

Jane had described the Bifrost to her. “Like a rainbow, but at night.”

 

“So a goth rainbow?” Darcy remembered her ridiculous response well. “Like some new age crystals and Hot Topic had a baby?”

 

“Actually, that’s not too far off,” Jane had said, her laugh wistful.

 

Darcy arranged the colored votives in a rainbow and started sorting through the rune stones. Thankfully, whoever manufactured these divination kits had included a few sheets of paper with the meanings written out, and Darcy started to pick out the runes that seemed to best fit her end goal. She gulped down some more wine.

 

Stones arranged, tea lights glowing, and just the rainbow of votives to light, Darcy felt her heart already starting to race. This was stupid. This was perfect. This could never work.  _ This just might work. _

 

She couldn’t think of any words to say or a chant to intone and eventually settled on a rather tuneless humming that felt mystical enough. As the last votive was lit, she sat back with her wineglass and closed her eyes and continued to hum, focusing all of her mental energy on what she hoped was a summoning force.

 

The seconds stretched to minutes. Eventually, the very full glass of Pinot was empty, and Darcy frowned. She stood up, awkwardly, trying her best to not knock any of the candles over, and she sighed. “Dammit, why won’t you  _ work _ ?”

 

Suddenly she felt as if all the air had rushed out of her lungs, out of the apartment, like air just didn’t exist anymore and she was desperately gasping to try and bring it back, and with a start all of the candles were extinguished. The air had a hum to it. It felt like it was vibrating, and the vibrating was ringing in her ears, and she felt the tremor all the way down to her toes. Darcy gasped a minute later, gulping down lungfuls of air as her ability to breathe suddenly returned, and a figure came crashing down inside the circle, scattering tea lights and rune stones in the process.

 

Something was wrong. This person was too large to be Jane. Too dark-haired. “What the fuck,” Darcy said, voice raspy. “What the  _ fuck _ .”

 

The crumpled figure slowly pushed itself up to a seated position and looked up. Darcy’s eyes met a pair of green ones, ringed in dark circles and set in a face that had most certainly seen better days. Loki grimaced. “My thoughts exactly.”


	2. God Knows I Live, God Knows I Died

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even after dying and somehow coming back, Loki still hasn't lost his ability to be a little shit. And Darcy hasn't lost her taser.

All he heard was screaming. Loki hoped  _ he _ wasn’t the one screaming. He was disoriented and struggling to stand in the middle of what looked like the single worst attempt at magic he had seen in his life. He thought that perhaps he’d found Hel - after all, it was quickly shaping up to be his own personal version of the underworld - but the throbbing of every single muscle in his body precluded the notion of death. And he didn’t  _ want _ to be dead. Before long, the screaming resolved itself, and it was very present, and it was  _ not _ coming from him.

 

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK!” The woman - panicked, inebriated, and already grating on what shreds of his nerves remained - would not stop shouting the word over and over again. It rather made it lose effectiveness.

 

“Stop!” Loki shouted right back. Or he tried to shout. His voice was hoarse and rasping and unconsciously he brought a hand up to his throat. It was painful to the touch, and the memory of Thanos’ grip overwhelmed him. So he  _ had _ died. Maybe this  _ was _ Helheim. He struggled to stand, and the screaming woman stopped her shouting, thank every god in the universe. He gave himself another moment to collect his bearings. Undignified clambering?  _ Absolutely not _ . Even if he was dead. He looked up at the woman instead.

 

She was on the smaller side, bespectacled and rather bedraggled. She was now brandishing something small and black in her hands, presumably as a threat, though the absurd way her dark hair was piled on top of her head rather dulled the effect. She pushed her glasses up her nose with her other hand. “You’re not Jane.”

 

Loki grimaced. “Last I checked, no.” Another part of his scattered mind settled itself back into place. “Jane?”

 

The woman didn’t let her weapon - at least he assumed it was a weapon, though it didn’t  _ look _ like a weapon - fall even a fraction of an inch. “You’re Loki,” she said, her voice rising in a squeak. “How did I get  _ Loki _ ?”

 

“Sorry to disappoint you.” Loki picked up a votive candle, dangerously close to falling over and setting everything else ablaze, and turned it around in front of his face. “What were you  _ doing _ here?”

 

The woman’s shoulders relaxed, even though her arms didn’t. “I was…” Her voice cracked. “I was trying to get Jane back.”

 

Loki sat the candle down. This was not his modus operandi. He had to regain control of the situation, first by convincing this misguided woman to lower her weapon, and then by convincing her to perhaps coherently explain herself. He pushed up from the floor, already rolling his shoulders back to stand up straight and tall and imposing.

 

Then everything went white.

 

* * *

 

Loki woke on a bed. This was, in itself, not unusual. One tended to wake in beds, after all. He tried to sit up, and found that his wrists were strapped down at the mattress’ upper corners. While this certainly wasn’t a  _ common _ way for him to wake, in itself, it still wasn’t  _ unusual _ . He lifted his head instead.

 

The woman was standing at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, eyes wide, face white. She pushed her glasses up again. “I tased you,” she said. “Didn’t think it would take you out.”

 

Loki flexed his wrists. “And you felt this necessary?”

 

The woman’s cheeks turned pink. “I saw the New York footage in 2012, dude. God of Mischief? More like God of Egomania and Destruction. The last thing I need is you leveling my apartment.” She paused. “You’re heavier than you look.”

 

Loki turned his head to get a closer look at his restraints. The leather cuffs -  _ oh, you saucy…  _ \- were clipped to strong woven straps that disappeared beneath the mattress and were most certainly not something that had just this moment been installed. “Do you make a habit of restraining strange men to your bed, miss…” He turned to look back at the woman, who had gone from pink to crimson. “I’m sorry, in the middle of all the shouting you never told me your name. In this position I at least have a name to scream.”

 

The woman fumbled around on the desk behind her for the small yet debilitating weapon. “Darcy,” she replied. “Darcy Lewis. Don’t get too comfortable saying it, Mischief.”

 

Loki smirked. Now,  _ now _ , he was back on familiar ground. Control of the situation did not always depend on who held a weapon or even had use of their hands, after all. “And why shouldn’t I? Unless, of course, you have something  _ else _ on hand to stop me.” His eyes trailed back up to the restraints, slowly, significantly, and then back to Darcy, whose face was practically on fire now. She opened her mouth to reply but was cut off by another crashing sound from the next room.

 

Darcy dropped the weapon -  _ tased him? a taser? _ \- and stomped toward the open door. “For fuck’s sake, do I have to close the circle like it’s a Ouija board or something?” After a few seconds - Loki counted, betting with himself he’d make it to three and surprised that he reached the count of five before it began - she loosed another stream of hysterical cursing. “What the FUCK? Who the FUCK? Fuck fuck fuck FUUUUUUUUCK!”

 

Loki idly wondered who had followed - perhaps Hela, come to ruin Earth now that she’d brought her doom to Asgard, or Thanos come to finish whatever he started - and before the sinking feeling in his stomach could truly distress him, he heard a familiar voice he would never in a million years before now have thought so welcoming.

 

“Hey, we’re on this spaceship looking for Lord Thunder, wanna come?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey I've come back to this story! I've also watched Ragnarok a lot lately so expect this to take a turn more toward the... whatever Ragnarok is. Hilarious? The bisexual agenda? High-key kinky? All of the above?


	3. No One's Going Anywhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Val has been stuck in a pod with Korg for too long, and Darcy has wine and a great story. Why wouldn't she take some time to get to know the resident of the apartment she's crashed?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in one day? I live in this dumpster now so, yes.

Val elbowed her way out of the escape pod. She thought Korg was a darling, wonderful… whatever he was, but the shouting she’d heard when they crash-landed didn’t seem like the kind that would be comforted by a talking pile of rocks, no matter how soft-spoken and polite said pile of rocks might be. She brushed the dust off her tunic. They’d apparently kicked up quite a lot of it, dropping into wherever this was the way they had. She looked around the room.

It had probably looked far more spacious before an Asgardian ship’s escape pod filled it up, she’d concede to that. The shouting had stopped, and Korg was standing placidly as a petite woman -  _ human, Midgard, Earth _ , went the battle-trained mental checklist that had come back into practice ever since Val eased up on the sauce - waved something black and compact at him. “I have a taser, and I’m not afraid to use it!”  _ Gutsy _ , Val thought approvingly.

“What’s it do?” Korg was pretty genuinely interested in the device.

“Taser. It goes bzzt bzzt and stuns you with electricity.” The woman was starting to look a little confused, and more than a little tired. 

Val could sympathize. She hadn’t slept since she’d pulled Korg and Miek into the pod at the first sign of trouble. Well, hadn’t slept much. Strange dreams had come to her in fits and starts whenever she was too exhausted to stay awake. Dreams about her former duties. Dreams about death. Dreams about carrying the least valiant soul she’d met in her life to the halls of Valhalla. And once, just once, a dream about fighting alongside Thor.

She’d tried to take Thor with them, too, but he must have spent too much time around his accursed brother, because the minute her back was turned he was out of the pod and slamming the panel to close and eject it. They’d gone sailing off into deep space, and without a gods-damned drink in sight, she’d gone into survival mode, conserving resources as much as possible as they tried to navigate their way back to any civilization they could find. Thankfully, Korg didn’t need to eat much. Or at all. Val hadn’t cared to ask.

She stepped forward. “He’s made of rocks, I’m afraid. Electric shocks won’t work.” She pointed to the bun on top of the woman’s head, then her own. “Nice hair.”

“Th… thanks.” The woman lowered the taser. “So who are you guys again?”

“Brynhildr!” The name, said in an irritatingly confident voice that Val was  _ certain _ she would never hear again, came from the open door at the woman’s back.

Val bristled. “I should have never told you that,  _ lackey. _ ”

“ _ Loki _ .”

Val scowled. “I hate him so much,” she muttered under her breath. She focused her attentions back to the woman. “Call me Val. And this one’s Korg.”

“And this is Miek,” Korg added helpfully, holding up the little purple blob. “Electricity? Like Lord Thunder? Are you Lady Thunder?”

The woman began to laugh hysterically, clearly someone who had Seen Some Shit and was ready to wash her hands of it. “No way. I’m just Darcy. Darcy the intern with the taser.”

“Are we finished with introductions and pleasantries?” Loki’s voice drifted from the other room once more. “Because if we are, I would dearly like to be freed from Miss Lewis’ sex dungeon now.”

Val cocked her head at Darcy. “Is it really a sex dungeon?”

Darcy was blushing and turning, not to the open door, but to what was left of the galley kitchen. Apparently cabinets had come loose from their hinges in the dustup and a riotously colorful collection of plastic tableware had spilled out in an avalanche, along with a few glasses that lay in fragments along the countertops. Unscathed, however, was the wine. She was already working a corkscrew into a gigantic bottle, and Val approved of her even more.

When the cork was out of the wine, Darcy looked around for a glass. Finding none, or at least none that weren’t in pieces, she shrugged and took a swig from the bottle. “Long story.” She held out the bottle. “Wine? You’re -  _ we’re _ \- gonna need it.”

Val smiled. “Abso _ lute _ ly.” She would even take smaller swigs to make the bottle last for the whole story. A story she greatly looked forward to hearing.

* * *

 

“...and then Loki came crashing down, and I tased him…”

Val guffawed. “I would pay to see you do that again.” She was sitting atop Darcy’s desk in the bedroom now, all the better to see Loki incapacitated. It was something she’d never get tired of seeing, if she were being honest. She reached over to tug on one of the straps at the foot of the bed that was holding Loki fast by the ankle.

“I’m sure you would,” Loki said acridly. “You could even pay in alcohol, which I’m sure Miss Lewis would be  _ most _ happy to accept.”

Darcy, sitting on the floor in the doorway, slammed the almost-empty wine bottle on the ground with surprising foce. “I  _ tased _ him, and he was so  _ weak _ it knocked him out cold, and I figured keeping him in one place was the smart thing to do.”

Val smirked. “Very smart.” She stood to tower over Loki and caught sight of the bruises around his neck. She blinked and swallowed, an image flashing back into her mind that she couldn’t have seen, not unless…

Loki’s stare was withering. “Deciding whether or not to take advantage?” His eyes flashed and his mouth curled wickedly. “I might not be Thor, but I can assure you-”

“You died.”

Loki’s needling words were cut short by Val’s blunt statement. His expression went cloudy for a moment, and then it passed, leaving his expression blase once more. “Clearly not. You could even touch me to see.”

Darcy pushed against the door frame to stand up. “The only dead about him is dead weight,” she said. “I felt a pulse and everything when he went down.” She kept her gaze on Val, pointedly ignoring Loki’s eyes now on her.

Val shook her head. “He might not be dead now, but he was dead. I…” She trailed off, walked around the bed, took the wine bottle from the floor and drained it dry. “I was taking him to Valhalla.”

“Wait.” Darcy’s hands went to her head, fingers rubbing her temples. “Valhalla? Like Norse mythology Valhalla? Like where the  _ heroes who died in battle _ go?”

Val’s eyes were on Loki, unusually piercing and thoughtful. “You died a hero,” she said, unable to conceal the wonder in her voice.

At this, Loki let his head fall back on the mattress once more. “Oh please,” he scoffed. “I don’t die, and certainly not  _ heroically _ .”

“Hm.” Val turned to look at Darcy. “What did you do again, that brought him here?”

Darcy looked embarrassed at this. She crossed her arms and stared at her feet. “Lit some candles, put some runes on the floor, and uh… thought about it really hard.” She looked up, this time staring at the space above Val’s head, avoiding eye contact with either of the Asgardians in the room. “Maybe it was just an accident.”

Val was lost in thought for a few moments before replying. “Maybe so.” She looked back down at Loki. “I have some questions.”

Loki sighed. “And I have a need to not be strapped to this bed anymore, and yet here we are.” He raised his head again to look at Darcy. “I can’t level your apartment, as you are so apparently afraid I’ll do, any further than it has been. So what’s the harm?” He tugged with one wrist. “If I must be here, at least make it  _ fun. _ ”

Val swooped in with a knife pointed at Loki’s chest before Darcy could stammer a reply. “You’ll stay there as long as we see fit, lackey.”

There was a shuffling sound at the door, just behind Darcy, and Korg did his best to duck his head in the doorway. Only his head fit; his shoulders were too wide, and he didn’t seem to feel the need to turn sideways and squeeze in. “There’s another spaceship outside,” he said helpfully. “I think they want us to come.”


	4. And I'm In the Throes Of It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy and her new companions are moved to a new location, and the discussion of magic comes back up.

It had not been a spaceship outside the window.

Darcy was now sitting on the floor of a very sophisticated piece of aircraft, far nicer than any she’d seen before. _Sci-fi S.H.I.E.L.D. level._ Darcy already felt like she'd spent her adult life living in a sci-fi pastiche. Intergalactic travel? Check. Mentors taken (or taken over) by aliens? Check. Run-ins with questionably benevolent factions of the government that involved said aliens and their superhero buddies? Check, check, check. It was almost more shocking, then, that this craft turned out to be completely Earthly in origin and was piloted by a very human woman whose face Darcy hadn’t seen in years.

Natasha Romanoff had stepped off the craft, into Darcy’s wrecked apartment, and surveyed the damage in all of three seconds. “You…” Her level gaze met all of theirs, one by one. “...have set off sensors and alarm systems on at least five continents. Lucky for you, we’re the closest.”

Darcy hadn’t met the Black Widow before, not in real life. Oh, everyone knew who she was. Darcy even supposed that she might’ve met her sooner, if she’d taken the Avengers Tower gig that had landed a little too neatly in her lap after Jane’s escapade on Asgard. (She turned it down. Point of pride. Also, she dreaded to know to what degree her Internet use would fall under “open record,” or at least record someone else was gonna look at.) The agent was, in a word, terrifying. And efficient. She’d herded them on board and even managed to keep Loki relatively subdued (“Nice,” she’d said to Darcy with a small, fleeting twist of a smile when she saw the method of restraint, and Darcy didn’t have the energy anymore to be embarrassed about her erstwhile sex life), all while giving a quick rundown on where they were going (upstate, to join what was left of the team, though Darcy doubted they'd be welcomed too warmly) before the craft glided off into the night.

Darcy was now wrapped up in one of those shiny blankets they handed out to marathon runners. Not that she’d ever run a marathon, or run at all, unless she was being chased. Once, Jane entered a 5k, and Darcy stole one of the tinfoil blankets from the marathon finish line to hurl at Jane when she was done. She assumed now that she must have looked to be in more than a little shock, for Natasha to hand her one of these, but she hadn’t realized how _cold_ she’d been until she wrapped it around herself. She was still shaking, just a little bit. Then she pictured herself, looking like a giant Darcy-burrito, and her shivering dissolved into breathless, hysterical giggling. She laughed so hard she thought she might fall over sideways. Instead, she pulled her knees closer in to her chest and laughed until she couldn’t breathe.

“She’s finally lost her mind.”

Darcy took in a gulp of air and looked up. Loki was seated cross-legged across from her, arms behind his back and cuffed together at the wrists. She was half-tempted to kick him, but thought better of it. _Better to stay dignified when you look like Chipotle._ She settled on what she hoped was her fiercest scowl. “She’s right here, God of Batshit, and she’s perfectly sane.”

Loki leaned forward just a fraction. “Are you certain?”

“Course she is, Batshit.” Val sat down next to Darcy, holding two cups of something hot, and offered one to Darcy. “Don’t listen to a word he says, and throw this at him if he gets too cheeky.”

“Noted.” Darcy closed her eyes and inhaled the familiar scent of coffee. Caffeine might be the last thing she needed in this moment, but God, it was welcome and familiar and so, so comforting. She took a small sip and almost instantly the shiver she couldn’t shake abated. _Point to Pavlov._

“Do you do magic often?” Val’s question was hesitant and thoughtful, as if she’d been chewing on how to ask it since they were back in the apartment and hadn’t found the right way to ask, and still wasn’t certain that this _was_ the way to ask.

Darcy herself had been wondering if the question would come up. She wasn’t sure what she’d done and was ready to write it off as a fluke, but a thought was planted in the back of her mind now, and it was beginning to grow under the light of possibility. She was irritated when Loki, in the most Loki fashion, interrupted before she could reply.

“You can’t seriously believe any of that was magic.”

She wanted to throw the little paper cup of coffee at him, she really did. But she didn’t want to waste perfectly good coffee, either. This time, she did sweep one foot out and managed to graze his kneecap, which made her feel a little better, even if it only seemed to amuse him more than anything else. “You got a better explanation, King Guacamole?” There was an awkward pause, and she started in on her worst habit: babbling to fill the void. “Because it’s extra. And green. And this foil blanket thing looks like what they wrap burritos in. Where adding the guacamole is extra. Green and extra.”

Wrong move. “Are you suggesting I should also be inside that ‘foil blanket thing’ with you?” Loki was nothing if not quick on the embarrassing-Darcy-uptake. “I wouldn’t object, and maybe then I could show you something closer to real m---”

He was cut off by Val’s empty cup hitting him squarely in the face. Darcy was more than grateful for Val’s apparent predilection to causing Loki bodily harm. _Could probably ask for some tips_ , she thought. “I haven’t,” she said hurriedly, before Loki could resume his disturbingly inviting train of thought. “Done magic, I mean. I just wanted to try something to get Jane back.”

Val’s attention was back on her. “Who’s Jane?”

“My best friend,” Darcy said, at the same moment Loki said “One of Thor’s old flames.”

Darcy narrowed her eyes. “No one asked you,” she shot back. _Where’s Korg? At least he’s nice._ She craned her head to see the rock-dude and his little purple alien friend crowded into the cockpit, watching Natasha man the flight controls and asking polite questions while Natasha gave terse, distracted answers. When Darcy looked back at Val, the other woman looked pensive. “Does he keep doing this?” She jerked her head at Loki, who finally looked a little annoyed. _See how it feels to be ignored, jerkface?_

“Always,” Val replied absently. Her focus returned and she looked at Darcy. “Had Jane been to Asgard?”

Darcy nodded. “There was some stuff with some weird antimatter and Thor took her there and next thing I know she’s back in a Ren Faire dress and saving multiple planets and deciding it was too much to have an alien god for a boyfriend.” She knocked back the dregs of her coffee. “Can’t say I blame her. I mean, I guess I can a little bit, because the guy was _cut_ , but cost benefit analysis or whatever.” She stared at her cup for a moment, then flicked it toward Loki. “They all seem like gigantic pains in the ass.” Her last statement was pointed, her head turned toward said gigantic pain in the ass, who she’d only just met hours ago and was now more than happy to make the butt of as many jokes and snide remarks as she could invent. She was a little disappointed that he didn’t even react this time and merely took the second cup to the face like it was a regular occurrence. It probably was, if Darcy had to guess.

Something else surfaced in her mind and she pushed her Loki-based annoyance aside to latch onto it, before she lost it again. “So Val like… a Valkyrie? It’s not your name?” She hesitated to use the name Loki had called out earlier in the night. _Brunnhilde? He didn’t say it like that, but like Brunnhilde if you had a mouthful of marbles_ . “So you’re like… a _Valkyrie._ Like dun-da-da-dun-dunnnnn.” She started to sing the opening bars of Wagner.

“Sworn defender of Asgard, best of the best, that’s me.” Val sighed. “And right now the only bit of Asgard I have to defend is _this_ one.” If looks could kill, the one she gave Loki would’ve murdered him. Violently. She opened her mouth to continue but was cut off by Natasha’s raised voice from the cockpit.

“Landing in ten. Brace yourselves.”

It wasn’t physical turbulence she was warning them about. When the small jet landed, just as smoothly as it had hovered at Darcy’s window and as smoothly as it had taken off into the night, there was a swarm of people. More people than Darcy could’ve predicted, what with half of all the people on Earth being gone for weeks, though there might’ve not been as many as the halogen-illuminated dark made it look. People in lots of Kevlar. People who looked tired, and pissed off, and in some cases, just as familiar as Natasha had been.

A nebbish kind of guy - _Bruce Banner, the Hulk, the Incredible freaking HULK_ \- who looked more tired than pissed broke through the swarm of people and headed straight to Val, crushing her in a hug. “You’re alive! Val, you’re alive!” When he let go he turned his head. “Oh no. He can’t be alive.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” came Loki’s reply. He was surrounded by… none of the people who had come out to retrieve them, actually. They all hung back, as if they were afraid to get too close, and were all more comfortable with surrounding Korg and Miek, apparently.

Darcy was starting to feel lost in the shuffle. She didn’t know any of these people, not personally, and while she could handle being surrounded by pissy people on a good day - hell, she’d worked _Black freaking Friday_ in _retail_ before this - she was wrapped in a space cape, tired, and starting to feel like a spring that was too tightly coiled. “Excuse me,” she mumbled, trying to push through and catch up with Val, or Korg, or even Natasha, who she felt she knew better by virtue of being in the same space as her for thirty minutes. By the time she did catch up to the knot of people just ahead, she discovered that apparently she was the hot topic of conversation, which wound the spring in her chest even tighter.

“If there was another magic user like Maximoff or Strange in this country, or even on this planet, we would have known about it.” Natasha’s arms were crossed and she faced Val, frowning. “We have files on Darcy Lewis. Close associations with Erik Selvig and Jane Foster, who are both gone.”

“What’s this about _gone?_ ” Val’s arms were akimbo, hands on her hips, and she was standing closer to Natasha Romanoff than any sane human should. Granted, she wasn’t human, so she was probably sane. Probably.

Bruce had his arms wrapped around himself and he shuffled from one foot to the other. “Thanos. The big purple guy on the ship that took us over. Got all the Infinity stones and went snap and people just…. dissolved.” He shot Loki a look. “You had the Tesseract on board! You led him _right to us!_ ” Veins were starting to bulge on his forehead, but they subsided when Natasha laid a hand on his shoulder. “Thor said you died.”

“Will everyone _please_ stop reminding me of my death?” For the first time since he’d come crashing down to Earth, Loki looked uncomfortable, and, to Darcy’s shock, even a little bit vulnerable. The shift had come when Bruce said “Thor.” He looked… hopeful. Darcy must have stared a little too long, because he caught her eye and furrowed his brow and his mouth was set once more in a line. “I can assure you, my supposed _death_ was highly unpleasant, if that makes any of you feel better.”

Natasha ignored him. “Point is, Darcy hasn’t pinged anything. She might have done something weird and Loki coming back was just a coincidence, but she’s not a magic user. Magic is just altered physics, anyway. It requires mutation. Different genetics. Something you're born with.”

“I. Am. Right. _Here._ ” Darcy’s voice grew in pitch and volume, shouting by the time she got to _here_ , and the tightly-wound feeling in her chest sprung outward in all directions. There was a _pop_ and a blast of energy that she didn’t feel but she saw, because it made everyone around her recoil, made the bright halogen light above them flicker, and when she looked down at the pavement, it had cracked in a radial spiderweb from below her feet. The space blanket had fallen from her shoulders and she looked at her fingers, which briefly glowed a faint red before quickly fading back to normal. She looked up into four faces, all in various states of expression.

Natasha’s face was impassive, carefully neutral, while Bruce was unable to hide his shock. Loki’s eyebrows were raised, which Darcy supposed was the closest he got to looking surprised. Val, by contrast, looked pleased, and even a little smug, as if she knew this would happen eventually. She reached out to Darcy and slapped her on the back companionably. “There it is.”

“So she _is_ Lady Thunder.” Korg had shed the handful of Kevlar-clad agents trying to usher him away and come to the group, unfazed as ever.

Darcy prided herself on a pretty steel-toed constitution most days. She’d helped discover an Einstein-Rosen bridge in New Mexico, tased a god, faced down a giant robot, acquired her own intern, broken an astrophysicist out of a hospital, helped save the world again, watched her best friend disappear, summoned another god and summarily tased him, and made friends with alien beings, all without breaking too much of a sweat. Discovering latent powers should’ve been old hat by now. But everyone has limits, even Darcy Lewis. She felt her head start to swim and everything go fuzzy. “Whoa,” she whispered, and promptly collapsed in an unconscious heap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy everyone's been loving this! It's so much fun for me to write. I had to tweak this a little bit after seeing the trailer (y'all know what trailer I'm talking about), and I'm excited about the direction it's about to take.


	5. I Just Want To Make A Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Val's already got a plan. Now if only she could get a good drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! So! I know I started this as pretty Tasertricks-centric, but hey, why not throw some Thorkyrie into the mix?

Through the full wall of glass, lying on a bare hospital bed, Darcy looked even smaller than normal. Val stood and watched as a team of doctors, plus Bruce, set up sensors all around her, plugged in monitors for what had to be more than just vitals, and tapped away on sleek handheld tablet screens. It was overkill for a fainting episode, and Val had a sinking feeling that she already knew the answer when Bruce finally came out and she asked her question anyway. “What’s going on?”

Bruce tapped on the glass, pulling up innumerable panels - video, scans, lists of data, what was surely just the first page of Darcy’s file - and pulled some over, zoomed in, swiped around. “Natasha was right about the physics part,” he said. “Thermodynamics, if you want to simplify it. Boils down to energy being here and then…” He cleared his throat. “And then the hosts suddenly weren’t. It had to go somewhere. Darcy probably isn’t the only one who’s had some weird stuff happen.” He pulled the panel with the video from the landing pad, less than an hour ago, when Darcy had her freakout moment that inevitably sent her collapsing to the ground.

Val had been the one to catch her. Watching it again, in slow motion, she saw that she’d merely been the one with the fastest reflexes. Everyone moved the second Darcy began her slump forward.

Even Loki had twitched forward, just the slightest bit.

Val narrowed her eyes. She still didn’t find the bastard trustworthy, not in the slightest, and this was unusual, even for his trademark unpredictability. She tucked the information away, along with everything else she'd been mentally filing since they walked into this too-smooth, too-sleek place. Then, she reached up to touch the glass and swipe Darcy's vitals screen over. Normal. She breathed a sigh of relief.

“You know her?”

At the sound of Bruce’s question, Val was out of her reverie and back to her old self. “Not as well as I know you, big guy.” She grinned and punched him lightly on the arm. “But I like her. Reminds me of me.” She looked back at the gentle, steady beat of the heart rate monitor. “You’re not keeping her in there, are you?”

Bruce wouldn’t look Val in the eye. “She, uh…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “There’s a lot of testing we have to do.”

Val’s first instinct was to take Bruce by the chin, make him look at her when he said it, maybe shake him and smack him around a bit. Instead, she punched the glass. It was stronger stuff than she expected. There was a jagged radial of cracks from the center of impact, but not much, and she shook her fist, wincing. Bruce was staring, wide-eyed once more, and Val frowned. Her next question came out before she had a chance to think on it. “Where’s Thor?”

 

* * *

More glass walls holding stark, barren, white rooms greeted Val when she and Bruce descended to the lowest level of the compound. Where the one containing Darcy had looked like a laboratory, though, these all looked suspiciously like holding cells. Val wished she had a bottle of something, anything, because night was turning to dawn and the unusual was turning to the unpleasant and she hadn’t floated in space on fumes just to end up in a place that felt so  _ wrong. _ It was hostile and strange, not at all like Sakaar, where she could hide and blend into the background and let her many and varied weapons speak for her if she had to speak at all. They’d confiscated her weapons here. She wanted them back. She knew there was one person who could help her get them back, but she wasn’t ready to admit it. Instead, she asked the obvious question: “What’s Thor doing down here?” 

Low lights flickered on along the corridor as the pair walked along. “It’s complicated,” Bruce replied.

“This whole night has been complicated. I’m tired of complicated.” Val almost bumped into Bruce as he drew to a halt.

Thor Odinson, God of Thunder and King of Asgard, had certainly seen better days. He was in Midgardian clothes, which Val would have found jarring were it not for the fact that, as he slept on the bench along the wall, some furry animal was sleeping slumped against his torso. When Bruce stepped up to the glass, the light inside the room blinked on.

Val thought she’d seen it all, but when Thor groaned at the light and sat up, the animal jumped up on its hind legs. “Who the fuck is it now?”

It talked. The animal talked. Sure, Val had just spent weeks with a sentient boulder and his insect friend, but talking animals? Ridiculous. Beyond. She leaned forward. “What is --”

“Don’t start,” the animal snapped at her.

Thor pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed his eyes with thumb and forefinger. “What time is it?”

Val couldn’t help herself. “Time to get out of this shithole, Your Majesty.”  _Your Majesty,_ she thought ruefully. They'd been through the Anus, battled Hela, witnessed Ragnarok, and traveled star systems together, and he was still Your Majesty.  _Old habits die hard._

Thor’s head snapped up. “Val?” He was up and across the length of the room in a moment, hanging back just before he got to the glass. He wasn’t one given to shyness, but it was apparent that a lot had changed. A whole lot.

Val pursed her lips, not quite ready to smile, and gave a little wave. “Nice eye.”

The wonder on Thor’s face faded a bit, replaced by ease and conviviality, the prince still freshly made king that Val had known on Sakaar and the new Asgard, all too briefly, and she was relieved to see it. Plain, unshielded wonder at the sight of her was a bit much to take right now. He leaned down to help the animal -  _ raccoon,  _ Val conjured up from somewhere in her mind - up to his shoulder, where it sat, arms crossed and scowling as much as a raccoon could possibly scowl. “This kind rabbit stole one for me.”

Val smiled then. “A rabbit, Your Majesty?”

Thor leaned forward conspiratorially. “Of course I know he’s not a rabbit. I want to see how long it takes for him to argue with me.”

“I can take that eyeball right back,” the raccoon said. “Who’s the chick? Ex-girlfriend of yours?”

For the first time in their acquaintance, Val was certain that she could see Thor blush. Midgardian clothing, a talking raccoon, a new eye, and now cheeks that were red and not from too much drinking? The oddities kept piling up. Thor even stammered a bit when he answered. “She’s… she’s a Valkyrie. The Valkyrie. Val.”

“So you’re a Valkyrie  _ named _ Valkyrie,” the raccoon said, cocking its head.

“And you’re a raccoon named Kind Rabbit?”

“Rocket.” The raccoon hopped down. “Were you talking about busting us out?”

Val looked at Bruce. “I was.” She'd never been one for smiling sweetly, but she tried it anyway, breaking into what she thought was a friendly grin.

Judging by the look on Bruce's face, Val hadn't smiled so much as bared her teeth. He looked nervously from Thor to Val to Rocket. “Nuh-uh. No. Listen, Thor, I like you and all, but if Nat and Steve thought you needed to be down here, I’m not gonna make waves.”

Val saw a panel by the glass wall then, and she inched toward it. “You don’t know why he’s here?” She cut her eyes at Thor, cocked her head a little, gave him as significant a look as she could muster.

It was a common mistake, made by many, to think Thor a brainless oaf. He tilted his chin up at Val and slid his gaze over to Bruce. “Why am I in here, Banner? The rabbit, sure, but me?”

It appeared that Rocket had also picked up on Val’s movements, because he didn’t bother to correct Thor. He was pacing back and forth behind Thor’s legs on all fours, ready to bolt at any second. Val angled herself at the panel and saw that, like every other room and door in this godforsaken place, it had a screen large enough for a handprint. She planted her legs in a wide stance and waited.

“Well you weren’t exactly in a great headspace after you messed up trying to hit Thanos with the axe,” Bruce said. “I mean, you had an axe and a criminally-minded raccoon who likes to blow things up. Maybe they just need you to cool your jets a little.”

“I need to cool down, but not Bruce Banner, the Hulk?” Thor’s question seemed unusually cruel to Val, until she saw the result.

Bruce threw his hands up. “I thought we were past that!”

Val seized her chance, and one of Bruce’s hands. She caught Bruce off guard, and he stumbled, and it was too easy for Val to wrest control and smack his palm on the panel screen. It glowed blue, and the glass wall slid down. Bruce groaned. "Oh, no no no no. Nat is gonna kill me."

Thor and Rocket wasted no time. Rocket bounded away toward the elevator, cackling maniacally, and Thor rushed to Val. His arms started to come up, both of them, like he was about to crush her in an embrace, and Val stiffened. At the last moment, though, Thor froze and hesitated and slowly, awkwardly, reached one hand out to clap Val on the shoulder. It would have been a lie to say she wasn’t disappointed, but Val wasn’t ready to confront that particular emotion right now. She had more pressing matters.

“I have some news, your majesty. About… about your brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, where is this story going? How can there be so much and not enough happening at the same time? I'm just trying to get all the dominoes in line before I tip them over, y'all, and I'll also admit that I like leaving chapters on a tiny bit of a cliffhanger. Don't worry; I've got plenty more coming next chapter. I mean it this time.


	6. It's A Challenge But I Manage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy catches up. Imperfect reunions are had. Long stories will have to wait.

Darcy sat at the edge the bridge, legs dangling, a bottle of something brown and expensive in her hand. She wrapped her other hand around one of the thin railing bars and leaned forward to watch the heated argument on the bay floor below. She hated the phrase “boys will be boys,” but judging by the shoving match that was now starting, apparently boys _will_ be boys in some cases, especially when they’re brothers. She took a sip from her bottle and snorted when Thor tried to put Loki in a headlock.

Val sat next to her, leaning on the railing with her back to the free show below, more concerned with her own cut crystal bottle. “What’s happening now?”

Another sip. “Well, Loki avoided a headlock, but now Thor’s grabbed him from behind and - “ Crash. “Now they’re on the floor.”

“Any hair-pulling yet?”

“Ha!” Darcy looked at Val. “Loki’s gonna be shit outta luck if that starts, huh?”

“That haircut was the best thing that happened on Sakaar,” Val replied. She tilted her bottle toward Darcy. “Cheers.”

Darcy clinked her whiskey bottle against Val’s. “Bottoms up.”

 

* * *

 

It happened like this.

When Darcy woke up in what was simultaneously the nicest and worst hospital bed she’d been in, she thought for a moment that maybe she’d fallen into a coma and dreamed the whole thing. Hell, maybe she’d even dreamed the Snappening, and Jane was about to come tell her that Darcy had a stupid accident with the equipment and to _please_ stop plugging things in without asking first, and they’d laugh about it, and Darcy could get some therapy to analyze her weird coma dreams. That would’ve been nice. She almost believed it for a second. Then she sat up and looked around.

They’d left her in her clothes, thank God, and no one had stuck any needles in her yet. For a standard-issue hospital bed, it was surrounded by the weirdest and most advanced tech she’d ever seen. Like Apple and the medical industrial complex had a minimalist dream baby. There was even something hovering next to her, disk-shaped, like a miniature Roomba but somehow even more unsettling. She poked it and it drifted ever so slightly before coming back to hover next to her head. _Okay, you gotta go first._

She scooted off the bed and stretched. The whole room was enclosed in glass, with one door leading out. Darcy went to push it open, but no dice. The buttons and touch screen panel next to the door were dimly backlit, and she poked at them. They glowed red, and letters flashed on the screen. **ACCESS DENIED**

Darcy huffed and started pounding on the door with a fist. “Hey! _Hey!_ I’m feeling better! Can I come out?!” She didn’t truly expect anyone to come to the weird human-sized medical terrarium, but it felt good to shout a little bit. After a pause, she banged on the glass walls with her palms. “Hey!”

Still no answer. Darcy backed up a few steps and looked around. Everything was so dim and dark and _clean,_ and it was just so _weird._ It also appeared that she was the sole person on this entire floor. She crossed her arms and wished for her taser. Then she remembered.

“Okay.” She held her hands up in front of her face, looking for that weird red glow in her fingertips to reappear. She took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and even went a little cross-eyed trying to focus. Slowly, so slowly, the glow and spark she’d seen before came. She laughed. “Bad _ass!_ ”

She wasn’t totally sure what to do with her hands. She held them out, experimentally, and focused on the panel by the door. All she really wanted to do was disarm it, maybe cause the codes to fall into place, make everything happen with minimal fuss. What she got instead was another blast of energy that made sparks shoot and circuits short and she was surprised that the whole wall didn’t come down in pieces. The door opened, yes, but the panel to open it was rendered completely useless in the process.

Darcy wasn’t one to dwell on the details.

She was out like a shot. She didn’t know where she was going, but by God, she was _going,_ and that was all that mattered. She went down a short flight of stairs, which led to a corridor, which led to an elevator, and there was another one of those panels to open it. Zing went the red sparks from her hands, and she was drunk on the feeling. Darcy Lewis, magician extraordinaire? Just fine by her. She punched the button for what she assumed was the basement level. By her logic, if her taser had been taken away, it was gonna be locked up someplace, and where do things get locked up? Basements. Probably.

The door slid open and almost immediately she was bombarded with people and voices and she panicked, just for a second - what if it all went wrong? what if she was caught? could her tenuous grasp on magical ability keep her from getting hauled back into medical bay hell? - but then there was Val, dragging along a reluctant Bruce Banner and followed almost immediately by Thor.

Darcy shrieked. “Thor! Oh my _God,_ what happened to your hair?” She jumped up to wrap her arms around him, ecstatic beyond belief that someone she hadn’t seen in years was right in front of her. He was still alive. He was her last connection to reality, or the reality she’d known til recently, and that’s what mattered most in the middle of this utterly absurd night, truth be told. “Where’s Mjo-- Mew-- where’s your hammer?”

She was answered with a crushing hug. “It’s… a long story.”

“One that can wait,” said Val, still pulling and pushing Bruce along. She took him by the shoulders and gave him a light tap on the cheek so he would look her in the eyes. “It can’t get much worse,” she said. “It’s not like Natasha can kill you _more_ than she’s going to kill you already.”

“You don’t know that,” Bruce said weakly. He still punched in a code on the elevator panel, and they began to drop even further below ground. He slumped down and pressed his forehead on the wall. “This is bad. It’s so bad.”

Darcy squirmed out of Thor’s grip. “Okay, so… the Cliff’s Notes, then.”

To her surprise, the voice that answered her came from somewhere around the area of her kneecaps. “He lost the hammer, lost his eye, lost his brother, got an axe, I gave him an eye, and apparently _you_ got him his brother back.” The raccoon cocked its head when Darcy looked down. “Yes, I can talk. Name's Rocket.”

The elevator ground to a halt. Darcy threw up her hands. “You know what? Okay!” She stood up on her toes to see over Thor’s shoulder. “So what’s the next stop for the freakshow?”

The next stop turned out to be a sub basement. There were extra doors to get through, and Bruce pressed his palm to every one, mumbling every time about Natasha’s inevitable wrath in his general direction. Darcy bounced along on the balls of her feet, feeling positively manic. They were all weaving through a dark maze of rooms, Bruce and Val leading the way, stopping only to retrieve a whole mess of confiscated items that included an impressive collection of knives, something that looked suspiciously like a rocket launcher, Darcy’s trusted taser, and the piece de resistance: an immense double-sided axe, with a handle of twisted knotty wood. The whole affair was starting to feel like a caper, and Darcy had missed staging capers so very much. She grinned and was ready to compliment Thor on the shiny new Viking weapon when they all came to stop at a metal door.

Bruce looked at Val, then at Thor. “Are you sure?”

Darcy saw Thor’s jaw and his grip on the axe’s handle tighten. She wanted to pat him on the back, suddenly. Maybe even rub it a little. If someone had told her just now that Jane wasn’t gone after all, she’d be even more wrecked than when she started. The big dude was doing pretty well, considering.

“Yes,” Thor said, shortly. He looked down at Darcy. “How did you-”

“Another long story,” Val interrupted. “Are we bringing him along or not?”

Bruce put his hand on the screen and leaned down to oblige an additional retinal scan. The metal door began to swing open, slowly, and none of the ragtag bunch standing in front of it moved to rush it along. They simply let it open, and when it finished, there they stood, waiting. And waiting.

After a lengthy pause, Darcy looked around. “So…” Her train of thought was cut short by the weight of a hand on her shoulder. “Shit!”

“Bringing me along where?” Loki’s voice was _very_ close to Darcy’s ear.

Instinctively, Darcy twisted around and pulled the trigger on her taser, glad that she’d thought to put in a new cartridge after her first round of stun-the-demigod. For the second time that night, she watched Loki fall to the ground, twitching, though this time he stayed conscious through the whole ordeal, giving her a look that might not kill but could definitely maim if given the right focus. Darcy stared at him, wrinkled her nose, and then looked back to Thor. “Uh, sorry.” She gave the thin electrode wires a yank. “That wasn’t exactly an ideal reunion, huh?”

To her surprise, Thor began to laugh. “That,” he said between shaking half-laugh breaths, “was just right.”

“We don’t have _time._ ” Val touched Thor’s arm, not unkindly. “Reunions later. Leaving now.” She reached down and hauled Loki up off the floor. “You’re always the one with the brilliant plans,” she said to him. “So how about getting us out?”

“Oh, so you trust me now?” Loki snapped peevishly.

“Not any further than I can throw you, but I think I could get at least a little distance,” Val snapped back.

“Speaking of throwing…” Thor began.

The three Asgardians burst into an indecipherable stream of muddled arguing that was in no way helped by Rocket climbing up on Thor’s shoulder and interjecting his own opinions on how to leave the compound. Darcy sighed and rolled her eyes. She looked to Bruce. “So. Does this happen often?”

Bruce shrugged and looked like he was trying not to laugh. “Most of the time I was with them I was the other guy, but... it seems right.”

Darcy looked around. “Is Korg down here somewhere too?”

Bruce actually did smile at this. “Would you believe he was the least threatening one of you to show up? Nat took him and Miek up to the hangar.” He sighed. “Have I mentioned that Nat is gonna kill me?”

“I could have killed you five times over by now if I wanted, Bruce.”

At the sound of Natasha’s voice, even Thor, Loki, and Val stopped bickering. The group turned to see the agent sauntering (Darcy had always _seen_ the word in the paperbacks she read, but she’d never seen anyone actually _do_ it before now) down the hall toward them. She stopped and crossed her arms. “Lucky for all of you morons, we’re understaffed right now.” When no one moved, not even Bruce, she twitched her head back a bit. “Come on.”

To Darcy’s surprise, Natasha did not put them all back where they belonged, be it cells or rooms or medical beds. In fact, she was talking to Thor and Val in hushed tones, keeping up a brisk pace back to the elevator, while Bruce just barely kept up. Loki was following just behind, taking an unhurried stride, but Darcy still had to half-jog to keep up. “Hey. _Hey!_ ” She swiped at what was left of whatever extra-ass drama-queen cape hung from Loki’s shoulders. “Slow _down!_ ”

Loki only barely flicked his eyes back and down. “Or you could walk faster, Miss Lewis.”

“You’re the _worst._ ” Darcy half considered skipping to keep up. It would beat tripping, which was what she felt like she was on the verge of doing as she tried to move faster than Loki. “Why are you even coming along? I didn’t think that was your schtick.”

Loki flicked his eyes back again, this time with the raise of an eyebrow. “Did you see my alternative?”

Darcy was starting to run out of breath. _How much hallway is even left down here?_ “You have…” Deep breath. “A point there.” She was grateful when the elevator did appear, and grateful that she was able to squeeze in on the side opposite of where Loki stood. She wasn’t sure how much more of a conversation she could keep up with him, and not just because she was horribly out of shape with shorter legs than everyone else. Well, everyone but Rocket, but Darcy was pretty sure she couldn’t hitch a ride on Thor’s shoulders. Loki was exactly how Jane had described him: handsome, charming, and _way too much trouble for those things to matter._ Darcy felt off-kilter every time he spoke to her. She’d chalked it up to the wine and that whole accidental magic weirdness when she couldn’t get through a conversation without blushing or stammering at the start of the night. Sleep deprivation, maybe. Caffeine. _Finding out that she could make sparks fly out of her hands._ But given time to adjust to everything, she was still caught off-guard when he even _looked_ at her.

Darcy Lewis did not enjoy losing the upper hand.

She nudged Natasha. “So, uh… what are you doing with us?”

Natasha was rapid-fire keying in codes. “Hm? Oh, I’m putting you on a ship.”

Darcy craned her head around to meet Natasha’s eyes. “Excuse me? You’re what?”

Natasha held up her free hand and kept tapping away with the other. When she finally stopped, she looked at Darcy. “Tony Stark’s missing. Somewhere out in space. And like I said, our resources are… thin.”

“You’re sending us on a fool’s errand.” Loki was leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed, surprisingly serene-looking. Darcy wanted to punch his stupid, smug face.

“A suicide mission,” added Rocket, still perched on Thor’s shoulder.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “I’m not shooting you out there blind. And how many of you are alien beings anyway?”

The elevator fell silent for a few moments, and then it came to a stop. The doors slid open and Natasha stepped out. She turned to look at them all. “Well? Come on.”

 

* * *

 

Darcy had to admit: Natasha really thought of everything. It still didn’t make a whole lot of _sense_ that she’d packed an unstable bunch of weirdoes into a really nice spacecraft to go shooting in the dark to find Iron Man, but God bless the Russian part of her that had clearly not disappeared in her years with S.H.I.E.L.D., because that was the part that packed them off with most of Tony’s booze. “Just make sure you’ve still got some when you find him,” Natasha said when she tossed Val the duffel bag.

Below them, Thor and Loki were still going at it. “Val. Val! He did it, he grabbed Loki by the hair and… oh God, he’s throwing him.”

Then, a big blur of green. "Thor stop fighting!"

Nat had even thought to make Bruce go Hulk just before the bay doors had closed and the ship had taken off into the night. God, that woman was the ultimate Girl Scout. A Girl Scout who could kill you in several different ways, maybe, but goddamn if she wasn't prepared.

Val turned around at this and snorted. “Do you think this’ll happen every day?”

Darcy cackled and took another drink. “God, I hope so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Okay, let's have some real fun, shall we?
> 
> Also, I tend to make playlists for all my separate writing projects, and I've got one cooking for this. If I make it, I assume everyone might be interested in seeing the Spotify link on the next update?


	7. We're Leaving With The Big Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hangover, a briefing, and a new way for Darcy to poke the bear that is Loki's patience.

There’s a lot of things the sci-fi books and shows don’t tell you about space travel.

 

For one thing, it can get really boring, really fast.

 

Darcy was learning this the hard way. After excitedly claiming a room for herself (though “room” was a generous term for a bunk wedged into a wall with eight by three feet of additional floor space), getting drunk on the bridge, finding out that yes, there  _ was _ a toilet wedged into her room’s wall for her to puke in (and she refused to think too hard about where it all went), and finding what she assumed was a kitchen so she could get a cup of water (once again, she refused to consider where the water was coming from), she felt that she’d exhausted all her options and that passing out for a solid twelve hours would help enormously. 

 

Sleep did help to pass the time, but it didn’t do much for the gnarly hangover. Darcy woke bleary-eyed, with a splitting headache, groaning miserably.  _ Do they have ibuprofen in space? _ She only had to roll over and stick an arm out to reach the duffel bag Natasha had tossed her way in the middle of yesterday’s madness. She unzipped a couple of side pockets before finding one that held plastic bottles, rattling with every over-the-counter remedy she could have dreamed up.  _ God bless Natasha Romanoff. _

 

Darcy tapped a couple of gelcaps into her hand. She found the stainless steel cup from the night before, sitting on a small ledge and still full of water, and knocked the painkillers back. First task completed, she started rummaging through the duffel bag proper to see what she had in the way of clothes.

 

Everything looked to be pretty standard-issue shadow-government combat training type stuff: lots of grays and blacks, stretchy fabrics, all lightweight. No weird space suits needed here.  _ Living in the future is amazing, _ Darcy thought as she tugged on a pair of sweats and a long-sleeved thermal shirt. There was even a brush and a brand-new pack of hair elastics wedged in there.  _ Can you send thank-you cards from space?  _ Darcy got the worst snarls out of her hair as best as she could and twisted the whole mess up into a bun, though a little more normal-looking than her Samurai Jack look from the night before. She didn’t have a mirror, and apparently her phone was long gone, so she just had to trust that she looked vaguely human until she could find a reflective surface.  _ But first, coffee. _

 

Darcy wandered back up to the kitchen in bare feet to get a closer look at how everything worked. It was surprisingly mundane, for being a kitchen in a freaking  _ spaceship, _ but she was glad for the mundanity when she poked around in search of the coffee maker. She giggled so hard she snorted when she saw a Mr. Coffee carafe, already full, behind an inset panel in the wall. “I always have coffee when I watch radar,” she said in her best Rick Moranis voice.

 

As soon as she spoke, she felt uncomfortably like she wasn’t alone. She turned her head, expecting Loki to be standing behind her, and saw nothing. With a shrug and a sigh, she grabbed her water cup from the night before, dumped out the barely-touched water, and filled it with coffee. When she turned her head to the other side to look for the sugar, she jumped. “Someone needs to put a bell on you!”

 

Loki smirked. (Darcy wondered if he knew how to actually smile, or if it was just smirks and lewd grins all day every day.) “Thor tried when we were children.” He took the carafe from her hand, making more contact with her than absolutely necessary in the situation. “It doesn’t work so well with teleportation.”

 

_ I’m too hungover for this.  _ Darcy jabbed a finger up toward Loki’s cheekbone. “Hell of a shiner he put on you there.”

 

Loki’s expression changed, ever so slightly, and Darcy almost started crowing in triumph at finally getting under his skin. He looked away, busying himself with pouring his own cup, and  Darcy reached out to poke at his shoulder. “So is all this leather and metal and stuff, like, self-cleaning? Did you  _ sleep _ in it?”

 

Apparently, some of the booze had been stashed in an upper cabinet, because Loki took down a bottle and poured a healthy glug into his coffee. “Are you so fascinated with what I sleep in, Miss Lewis?” The implied “or don’t” hung in the air.

 

Darcy shook her head. “Nope. Nuh-uh. Not doing this right now.” She spun around and marched to the narrow table at the other end of the kitchen, choosing a seat at the very end. "I don't know if the smirking asshole thing worked on the ladies in Asgard, but I absolutely refuse."

 

"Worked to do what?" Loki didn't join her. He merely leaned back on the wall beside the doorway, sipping his coffee and giving Darcy a look that made her want to simultaneously punch him on his bruised cheekbone and hump his leg while doing it. But mostly just punch him. Only punch him.  _ Get your head right, Lewis. _

 

Frustrated with herself, she scowled at him. "So are you gonna just stand there like a creeper?"

 

Before he could answer, Val came through the door. "Oh, you're here already." For someone who matched Darcy drink for drink the night before, she was incredibly chipper. There was some kind of tablet in her hand, and she sat down across from Darcy. "Natasha's got a lot to tell us."

 

"What?" Darcy reached for the tablet. To her great annoyance, Val moved it out of the way. "Come on, I wanna play with the top secret technology!"

 

Rocket hopped up on the table. "So do I."

 

Val twisted her torso away. "Down, rabbit."

 

Thor came in soon after, followed by Korg and Miek. They all sat around the table, Loki still not joining them, which seemed to bother no one. Val propped the tablet up on the end and they waited.

 

It didn't take long. The screen switched on by itself, and Natasha's face came into focus. "Everyone there? I'm not saying any of this twice."

 

Darcy leaned back to get a look at the door around Korg. "I mean, the big green dude isn't here. Should I get him?"

 

"Mm, better not. Don't want him turning back anytime soon." Natasha turned her head and looked around for a few moments before continuing. "Okay. I don't have long."

 

"Yeah, haven't you pissed someone off with our jailbreak?" Darcy piped back up.

 

Natasha smiled, letting out a short little exhale through her nose. "Steve's a little too afraid to actually confront me about it." Her eyes shifted briefly. "But let's not tempt fate. Brass tacks, okay?" She started ticking off on her fingers. "Tony was last seen hitching a ride on a hostile, along with the kid."

 

"Wait," interrupted Darcy. "What kid?"

 

"The spider kid," said Natasha. "Darcy, I really need to get through this."

 

Darcy ducked her head. "Sorry," she mumbled, and took another sip of coffee, wishing she’d thought to spike it. Of course, tipsy Darcy was even more of a talker, so maybe not.

 

Natasha nodded. "Accepted. Now. Thanos... did his thing. We need to find Tony, but we also need to find out where Thanos fucked off to. We need to do... a lot. And I'm ready to take a lot of gambles in the process.”

 

Thor leaned forward. “Do you know  _ where _ we’ll find Stark and the spider-boy?”

 

Natasha looked at something in her hand for a minute, then back up. “We tracked the direction they took initially, so we have some educated guesses.”

 

Val shifted in her seat. “'Educated guess' doesn’t sound promising.”

 

Natasha sighed. “I know. Like I said, a lot of gambles.” She looked like she was tapping something off to the side of her screen. “I’ve programmed your controls to take you to the Andromeda system for additional fuel and supplies. We have contacts in the Nova Corps-”

 

“Whoa whoa whoa.” Rocket walked across the table and got his snout a hair’s breadth away from the screen. “I am not going to Xandar.”

 

“You  _ are _ going to Xandar.” Natasha tapped at some more things off-screen. “You’ll be there in a week, with a few jumps to help along the way. And no -” She stared at Rocket until he backed away to settle down beside Darcy. “You can’t take control of the programming. Security is airtight.”

 

Rocket elbowed Darcy. “That’s what she thinks,” he said in a bad stage-whisper.

 

“I heard that, ferret.” Natasha narrowed her eyes. “Go ahead and try. I will turn that ship right around before you can blink.”

 

Darcy snorted. “Yes, mom.”

 

That was a mistake. Apparently, Natasha wasn’t ready to let her off the hook. “And you. No offense, Lewis, but you’re in awful shape.”

 

Darcy raised her coffee in a mock salute. “I try.”

 

“Well don’t.” Natasha jerked her head toward Val. “She’s gonna train you in hand-to-hand.” She looked to Val. “Don’t go easy on her.”

 

Val grinned. “Yes ma’am.”

 

Draining her coffee, Darcy waved her fingers in what she hoped was a threatening manner. “Careful. I’ve got superpowers now.”

 

Natasha sighed. “About that.” She leaned back, tapping her lips with her fingers, lost in thought for a moment. “You need to train those powers too. Don’t get me wrong, I  _ like _ seeing you break things, because it’s funny and I haven’t laughed in weeks, but I doubt our alien allies are going to be too amused.” She resumed her pensive lip-tapping, leaving an awkward silence that no one else quite knew how to fill.

 

Darcy stood up to get a refill. She hoped that getting out of Natasha’s immediate line of vision might leave the question of how to focus her newly-acquired magical energy unanswered. Let someone else take some Black Widow heat for a minute, right? She stirred sugar into her coffee and had started her walk back to the table when Natasha spoke again.

 

“There  _ is _ another magic user on board.”

 

Darcy nearly spit her coffee back out. “What? No. No no no no.”

 

“I agree. Are you  _ mad, _ woman?” Loki’s voice was strained. He sounded as if he might have choked on his own beverage.

 

Grinning, Thor turned around to look at them both. “I think it’s an excellent idea, brother.”

 

“You would,” Loki muttered under his breath.

 

For all her annoyance with him, Darcy actually felt a little sympathy for Loki in that moment. Not because he had a brother who liked to annoy him - that was normal, and probably well-deserved - but because showing anyone how to do anything was supremely annoying. She couldn’t even begin to count the number of times she’d snatched a device from Ian’s hands because it was easier to just do it herself. Teaching the magical equivalent of a toddler how to wield powers like a grownup in the span of a week was probably a new and special kind of hell.

 

Then again…

 

She plastered the biggest, sunniest smile on her face and looked over her shoulder at Loki. “You know, that actually sounds like a good idea.”

 

“Of course it is,” Natasha interjected. “I came up with it.” She launched into more details briefing them all on what they could expect and what questions to ask on Xandar, but Darcy’s attention had drifted away.

 

She was more focused on the fact that Loki looked quietly apoplectic, jaw clenched and a vein straining on his forehead. It was funny to finally see him look flummoxed. It was addictive, actually. Darcy wanted nothing more than to keep poking at him to see just how flummoxed the supposedly famously charming god of mischief could get. She sipped her coffee. “So what’re you gonna teach me?” Her eyes widened at a sudden thought and her grin went wider. “What should I  _ call _ you?”

 

Loki closed his eyes briefly. “If you give me another one of your infantile nicknames, so help me-”

 

“I was thinking Professor Snape,” Darcy said, barely able to contain her glee. “I know you don’t get it, but I do, and it’s hilarious.” She heard a snapping of fingers and the sound of her name come from the table and turned back around. “Hm?”

 

“Focus up, Lewis.” Natasha said. “I’ll be checking in for reports every twenty-four hours.” She pointed in the vague direction of Val and Thor. “These two are gonna tell me everything.  _ Everything. _ ”

 

Darcy huffed. “I’ll be a model student, Nat. Promise.”

 

Natasha cracked a small smile. “We’ll see.” She looked off-screen for a second and hissed something under her breath that sounded Russian and was probably not a very polite word. “I gotta go soon. Steve’s coming any minute now.” She pursed her lips. “I know you’ve got some weird thing for music playing all the time, Rocket.”

 

Rocket narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. “Yeah?”

 

Natasha rolled her eyes heavenward. “I’m gonna regret this.” She looked back at them, but her attention was focused on Darcy. “Check your bag, Lewis. I figured I’d put it in your hands and you could teach trash panda here that music exists past the 1970s.”

 

The smile on Darcy’s face was genuine this time. Playlist duty? It almost made up for having to get her ass kicked by Val and take magic lessons from Young-Snape-But-Sulkier. She gave a real salute this time, or the best she could, anyway. “Won’t let you down, mom.”

 

Natasha sighed. "Thor?"

 

Thor cocked his head. "Natasha?"

 

"Don't let any of them kill each other." When this was met with a chuckle, Natasha rolled her eyes again. "And hey, Korg?"

 

"Yeah?" Korg had just been sitting at the end of the table this whole time, calm as a pile of rocks could be, politely listening and quietly shushing a twitchy Miek.

 

"Keep being you." Natasha reached up. "Okay. I'm out. Don't screw this up, guys."

 

The screen went black and Val took the tablet back. Thor reached to take it, but Val stood up and turned away. "She gave it to me," she said over her shoulder, sticking out her tongue at Thor's mock-pout. When he reached for her, she swatted at him with one hand and reached for a knife with the other. 

 

Thor seemed unfazed by the knife and pushed it away, standing up and reaching once more for the tablet. "I  _am_ the leader here."

 

This was met with an elbow from Val. "Says who?"

 

"God, get a  _room,_ " Darcy said. She heard Loki behind her stifling what sounded suspiciously like a laugh. Feeling herself begin to turn pink, she pointed to Rocket. "You. We're gonna go figure out this music situation." She didn't have to tell him twice; to her surprise, Rocket scurried over and climbed up on her shoulder. She grinned. "I'm like the worst Disney princess ever!" She tentatively reached a hand up. "Can I pet you?"

 

"Your funeral." Rocket rubbed his paws together. "What did the bossy lady mean about my music taste? I think it's pretty good."

 

"I'm sure it is," Darcy replied soothingly. "We're just gonna make it  _better._ " With that, the pair set off toward Darcy's bunk. She steadfastly avoided making further eye contact with Loki.  _Music, food, ass-kicking training. Magic man can wait._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love throwing these two dorks at each other and letting them just kinda... poke and prod and look for the biggest way to irritate the other. And with a week of forced regular interaction before their next stop? In the words of Dr. Frank-N-Furter, I see you shiver in antici...
> 
> ...pation.
> 
> Also, check out the playlist! It's only gonna keep growing. https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3P8768QDopgwVihX4BOgpf


	8. Shock It, Shake It, Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Entertainment is hard to come by when you're hurtling through space. So you gotta make your own.
> 
> Also, Loki is a little shit, but what else is new?

"Oh my God, this thing looks like my old touch-screen iPod!"

 

"I what?"

 

"Don't worry about it. So uh, when Nat said you only listen to stuff from the seventies..."

 

"Listen, we just listened to what Quill had. It was two mixtapes, and -"

 

"Wait wait wait. Did you just say 'mixtapes?!' They have mixtapes in space?"

 

"You know Quill is from Earth, right?"

 

"I don't know who Quill  _ is, _ Rocket. So okay. Mixtapes. What's something you really liked?"

 

"I don't know the  _ names _ of anything, I just know how it goes."

 

"So sing for me. Hang on, lemme figure out... okay. I think I've got it hooked up on whatever super-advanced Bluetooth they shelled out for this thing."

 

"A blue tooth? Do you know how much that'll get on the market?"

 

"It's not... never mind. Sing a little something for me."

 

"Okay, uh... dum da dum da dum... then blah blah blah more of that and then... listen to the wind bloooowwww..."

 

"Holy shit, you like Fleetwood Mac? Forget what Nat said, we can stick to them because Stevie Nicks is a  _ goddess. _ ”

 

“You worship a broad named Stevie?”

 

“Who doesn’t? Okay, lemme look… perfect."

 

"What are you grabbing the emergency kit for?"

 

"Don't worry about it."

 

* * *

 

 

Darcy ran to the cargo bay with a space blanket trailing from one hand, a palm-sized device in the other, and a confused yet excited raccoon at her feet. Someone had dragged a perfectly ordinary-looking gym mat to the center of the bay floor, and Val was busy wrapping an assortment of lightweight metal bars with tape and foam at the ends. They looked a lot like gigantic q-tips, if Darcy had to be honest. Val hefted one in her hand and gave it an experimental spin, and suddenly, Darcy didn't think they looked like comically large q-tips anymore. She had the sinking feeling she was about to be on the business end of one of them.

 

Val lifted a quizzical eyebrow. "What's the shiny blanket for?"

 

Slowly, Darcy wrapped the thing around her arms like a shawl. "I was going to demonstrate the artistry of one of Earth's greatest performers." She did her best pleading look. "Think of it as calisthenics! A warm-up to the real work!"

 

This was met with a smile and a knowing shake of the head. Val brought the metal bar up across her shoulders, behind her neck, and draped the other arm over it. "I'll just warm up sparring with Br- Hulk, then." She looked past Darcy's shoulder and gave a little wave. "Hey, big guy!"

 

Their ship was built for many things. It was built to travel into space beyond normal human imagining. It was built to keep its crew fairly comfortable on the journey, as long as the crew was used to tight quarters. However, this ship was not built for the Incredible Hulk. He had a little wiggle room down here in the cargo bay, yes, but that was also possibly the only place with room for him at all. He came lumbering up behind Darcy, who scurried to the side, and picked up the largest of the metal bars. "Too small," he said.

 

"I know, I know," Val replied. She whipped the one in her hands around. "But we've gotta make do, all right?"

 

The Hulk grunted in assent and lifted his arms. Darcy was afraid he was going to just start bashing at Val, but to her surprise, he was simply getting in a good stretch. Val looked to Darcy and cocked her head. "So what's this warm-up you've got?"

 

"Oh!" Darcy looked at the small screen in her hand. "Right. That." She double-checked the settings and, satisfied that everyone was about to hear something to blow all their non-Earth minds, handed it to Rocket. "Just push play and let it go, all right?"

 

The familiar rapid-fire guitar riff came blasting from above and Darcy tugged her hair loose from its bun, shaking it out in time. She started singing along just this side of off-key. "Just like the white winged dooooooooove - "

 

She wasn't entirely sure what to do, now that she was doing it. For one thing, it was harder to actually sing and dance around at the same time. The rest of the words to "Edge of Seventeen" only half-spilled from her in breathless fits and starts while she began to twirl around with her arms out and the shiny emergency blanket flapping. In a fit of inspiration, she ran for the stairs up to the bridge.

 

In happier, more normal days, she'd danced around to this song in the lab with Jane. Well, she'd flailed, and Jane bopped her head along while staying pretty well-focused on an equation on the whiteboard. Darcy always needed the little mental breaks. Always needed to cut loose after hours of science talk and math problems that were more letters - some of them  _ Greek, _ for God's sake - than numbers. She'd run the gamut of songs on those late nights, but Jane always preferred the classics. Darcy liked to humor her, so Stevie it was half the time. Once, she’d improvised a shawl from a roll of butcher paper that Jane liked to keep around for scratchwork. For all that it lacked, her current burrito blanket was a little easier to wave around. 

 

"And a melody, nothing else mattered..." She was on the bridge now and only briefly considered that she  _ might  _ fall off if she kept twirling. Her hair was in her eyes, only adding to the risk. She twirled her way across anyway, and as luck would have it, she smacked right into Thor. With a toss of her head and another flap of her shiny shawl-wings, she regained her bearings and resumed the direction she’d been going in, staring into Thor's amused eyes, pointing as she danced backwards. "JUST LIKE THE WHITE-WINGED DOVE... "

 

She made another direct hit into another solid, breathing mass. Darcy cringed for a split second.  _ Please let it be Korg. Please let it be Korg. Please let it be Korg. _ She turned around.

 

Loki was not Korg. He was very much the opposite. Maybe it was the past thirty-six hours messing with her head, but Darcy felt her heart rate spike when she looked up into his face now. He wasn’t bad-looking when he wasn’t trying to conquer a planet or throw insults and innuendo at her. Right now, the look he gave Darcy was more bemused than amused. "What - "

 

"SINGS THE SONG, SOUNDS LIKE SHE’S SINGING." Darcy poked his chest for emphasis. Mistake. Worst mistake.  _ Is he radiating pheromones? Why do I want to climb his stupid body? Stupid tall broad-shouldered… NO. Stop it!  _ She did her best to stare daggers at Loki as she ducked past him and bolted for the other end of the bridge. The end of the bridge that led to the rest of the ship, with only the one set of stairs back down.

 

Oh well. She had an audience, she might as well milk it. She hit the bridge of the song and twirled again, half-singing, half-lip-syncing, and then, running out of good dance moves, started punching at the air along to the music. When she got a look down at Val, her eyes met with a grin and a thumbs up. It beat the other looks among those assembled, which ran the gamut of shock and confusion. Well, Thor looked like he was just trying not to laugh, and doing very badly at it. Darcy grinned, closed her eyes, and threw her head back to sing along to the closing refrain. "Ooh, baby, ooh, said ooh."

 

When the music died down, Val whooped. "Is that really what the Midgardian singer does? All the flappy stuff?"

 

Darcy shook her hair from her eyes. "The twirling, yes. Stevie Nicks does not punch a million angels." She pointed to Rocket. "Bring the thing! I wanna pick something else!" Before Val could protest, Darcy crumpled up the space blanket and plopped down on the bridge. "Come on. It’ll be great. Promise."

 

She let her legs dangle like she had the night before. Rocket clambered up in his weird little talking-raccoon parkour way, hopping on boxes and switches and rails. He handed over the music thingy and Darcy started searching and scrolling, wrinkling her nose in indecision. To her surprise, Thor came over and sat down on her other side. She waggled the iPod-like device at him. “Got any requests, Thunderstruck?”

 

Thor’s face lit up and, for a moment, he was the same goofy meatball Darcy had known back in New Mexico. “Stark liked to play a song with that name.”

 

Darcy couldn’t help but giggle. “He would be the AC/DC type.” She started tapping into the search bar. “One big fat dose of cock rock coming up.” When Rocket snickered, she gave the raccoon a shove that almost toppled him from the bridge.

 

A blistering riff came on over the speakers, and Val began to nod along. She turned to the Hulk. “Shall we?”

 

In answer, the Hulk swiped his big thwacky stick thing toward Val. Val jumped over it, spun hers over her head, and let out a yell as she charged.

 

Wisely, everyone had migrated up to the bridge before the real action started. Darcy leaned to look past Thor and wave at Korg and Miek as she grinned and bobbed her head along to the song. Loki was standing farther down at the very end of the bridge, arms crossed and brow furrowed.  _ God, lighten up, dude. _ Darcy was considering turning her wave into a majestic middle finger, but before she could, Loki spoke up. “This song is awful,” he half-shouted toward her.

 

With a grin, Darcy threw up devil horns and stuck out her tongue instead. “I dunno, I really like it!”

 

Thor nodded. “Might be my favorite song from all of Midgard,” he called to his brother.

 

“It’s catchy,” Korg agreed.

 

“It’s awful,” Loki said again.

 

“What was that?” Darcy waggled the music player. “Did you say turn it up louder?” She cackled as she adjusted the volume control. Loki pinched the bridge of his nose and looked like he was possibly counting to ten. 

 

A crash from below diverted all their attentions back down to the fight. Val was on her back, her ass-kicking stick out of reach, and the Hulk looked pretty pleased with himself. “Oh, shit,” Darcy murmured. She turned to Thor. “Should we help?”

 

“Oh no.” Thor leaned forward, hands on his knees, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Just wait.”

 

They waited. Val struggled to stand up, but she got back to her feet, and she stuck a hand out to the Hulk. “Well done, big guy.” When the big guy stepped over, though, Val grabbed on to his meaty paw with both hands and used her leverage to swing up and over onto his back. She wrapped her arms around his neck with a raucous laugh. “Say uncle!”

 

“Wow.” Darcy nudged Thor with her elbow. “Mark me down as scared  _ and _ horny.”

 

This earned her a throaty laugh from the god of thunder. “You have no idea.”

 

“UNCLE!” The Hulk bellowed.

 

Val loosed her grip. She hopped back down to the mat and retrieved the metal bar and pointed up with it, toward Darcy. “Your turn.”

 

Darcy’s face fell. “Oh, shit.”

 

Sparring with a valkyrie was probably already a tall order for a trained warrior. For Darcy, who’d signed up for a kickboxing class once and promptly forgotten to show up, it was brutal. Not to say she hadn’t tried her hardest; her hardest just wasn’t very… hard.

 

She thought that maybe the element of surprise would be in her favor. After all, Val couldn’t have been expecting Darcy to come running out the gate, right? Darcy took her own ass-kicking stick and ran at Val, screaming in what she hoped was the most threatening way possible. Next thing she knew, after a blow to her shins and her feet sailing from under her, she was crashing down on her face. She rolled over and groaned. “You Cobra Kai’d me!”

 

Val blinked. “What?”

 

Darcy pushed back up. “Never mind. Okay, lemme try again.”

 

“Try not to broadcast your every move this time.” Val crouched down, gripping her bar with both hands. “Ready when you are.”

 

With a roll of her shoulders and neck, Darcy tried again. This time, Val whirled around and smacked her on the back, swept behind her knees, and stood over Darcy, pointing the padded end of the stick right at Darcy’s neck. “Again.”

 

Sometime in the middle of the second ass-beating, Rocket turned the music on. Darcy grunted as she staggered up and shook her head.  _ Nothing like an AC/DC soundtrack to go with the humiliation. _ She lunged forward again. Val gave her another smack again. At least this time Darcy didn’t fall down.

 

It might have been better if there hadn’t been an audience. There was a reason why Darcy conveniently forgot to go to any group fitness classes Jane used to try and drag her to. And this wasn’t any old audience; this was a group of people who knew how to fight. For some reason, when Darcy looked up at the bridge, her eyes skipped over all the friendly faces and went straight to Loki. Maybe she expected him to look glad to see her taken down a peg.  _ Maybe I need a reason to hit harder and prove someone wrong. _ Spite, after all, is an excellent motivator. To her surprise - and surprising disappointment - Loki was impassive, careful disinterest blanding his features. His gaze met hers, and Darcy narrowed her eyes.

 

Smack. “Don’t get distracted.”

 

After she hit the mat for the fifteenth time - or twentieth? Thirtieth? She’d lost count - Darcy stood up and threw the bar down. “Okay guys. Show’s over.” She trudged up to the bridge, avoiding looking at Loki, avoiding even coming close to touching him, and held her hand out to Rocket. “Hand it over.”

 

“Aw, come on…”

 

“Give it.” 

 

When Rocket reluctantly put the music device in her hand, Darcy snatched it away with probably a little more force than necessary. She didn’t care. She wasn’t in the mood. Granted, she didn’t know what mood she was in, but she did know that she felt banged up and bruised and wholly out of her element once again. With a brusque wave over her shoulder, she stormed off to her bunk.

 

* * *

 

 

_ Feet don’t fail me now, take me to the finish line... _

 

Darcy lay on the bed and tried to let the familiar strains of Lana take her mind away. It was the music of blazing summer sun, days drinking by a pool, coaxing Jane out of the lab.  _ “If you’re gonna be a sad bitch, Jane, at least do it with style.” Alien Viking god or not, any man who up and leaves your best friend is a low down dirty dog, and what does Darcy Lewis do to cure heartbreak? Lean into the aesthetic, baby. “Let’s drink something bubbly and paint our toenails and get a tan.” _

 

Here, stuck on a spaceship with a bunch of people who’d been through the hells of war together, all Darcy wanted was to be able to talk to Jane about it. She was too keyed up and exhausted all at once to cry about it, but she had to do something. So breathy, nostalgia-tinged vocals it was.

 

Her train of thought was interrupted by pounding on the door. Val’s voice drifted in. “Darcy. We can hear what you’re listening to.”

 

"Goddammit." Darcy rolled over and reached out to bang on the button to slide the door open. "All I wanted to do was to listen to my sad bastard music in peace."

 

Val leaned in. "What do you have to be sad about? You're not gonna win every fight."

 

Darcy smiled up at her ruefully. "Still embarrassing."

 

"Uh-huh." Val took two steps in and pushed at Darcy's feet until Darcy sat up, freeing space on the bunk for her to sit. "Turn the sad girl down."

 

Rolling her eyes, Darcy adjusted the volume control. She looked down at the device. "There's gotta be settings to control where this plays," she muttered.

 

Val brought her legs up and crossed them beneath her, elbows resting on her knees. "Did you think you were going to beat me? At all?"

 

"I don't know." Darcy drew out the last word in something awfully close to a whine. “I didn’t know everyone was gonna be watching, I guess.”

 

Val cocked her head. “The Valkyrior train for an audience as soon as they enter their tenth year.”

 

Darcy’s mouth dropped open. “You were badass lady-soldier fighting when you were ten?”

 

“From the moment I could hold a practice sword.” Val tilted her head away and looked upward, lost in thought for a moment, remembering. “So about three, actually.”

 

“Holy shit.”

 

This made Val smile. “And I got knocked on my ass a few times.” She gave Darcy a serious look then. “It happens, Darcy.”

 

Darcy hugged her knees to her chest. “Tell me more about what it was like. Asgard, and the Valky… rurrr.”

 

“Valkyrior.”

 

“That.” Darcy waved her hand a bit. “Jane never told me about them.”

 

The smile on Val’s face was tighter now, and her eyes somewhere far away. “Tell you over drinks?” She focused back up. “Promise I’ll slow down this time.”

 

Darcy perked up. “Now?”

 

Val shook her head. “Nope. You’ve still got more training to do, and not with me.” She put a hand on Darcy’s shoulder, easing up the pressure when Darcy winced, and stood back up. “You’ll need a drink after that’s over with. Trust me.”

 

* * *

 

 

When Darcy didn’t find Loki on the cargo bay bridge, she went searching through the rest of the ship. She realized then that she hadn’t actually seen the rest of it yet. There were narrow passageways, a line of doors that she imagined opened to bunks like hers, larger rooms with open doorways, and all kinds of buttons and switches and cables and so, so much tech that her astrophysics lab rat fingers were itching to poke. Another small set of stairs took her up to what, if intuition and sci-fi savvy served her, had to be the command deck. The actual bridge, if you wanted to get nautical about it.

 

One year, she’d bought a word of the day calendar for the lab. “I’m losing all my liberal arts brain cells in here” was her reasoning. Problem was, she and Jane promptly forgot to tear the days off for weeks at a time. Darcy would rip handfuls when she did remember and riffle through to find something interesting. “Ooh, here’s a good one. ‘Insouciant.’ Adjective. Showing casual lack of concern.”

 

To save on words, the calendar printer could have put a picture of Loki as the definition instead.

 

He was in the captain’s chair -  _ Figures, _ thought Darcy - with his feet propped up on the controls, one long leg crossed over the other, and what looked like another one of those top-secret no-one-touches-these data tablets in his hands. He didn’t even bother to look up when Darcy cleared her throat. “I’m busy.”

 

Darcy crossed her arms and stomped over as best she could in bare feet. “Busy what, trying to stage a mutiny and commandeer the ship? You’re not doing so hot.”

 

A noise came from the back of Loki’s throat that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle. “I’m afraid the good agent Romanoff wasn’t kidding about the controls.”

 

Finally at the back of the chair, Darcy craned her head to look at the tablet in Loki’s hands. “Hey, I want one of those. Who gave  _ you _ one?”

 

Loki gave the screen a swipe and the dense, miniscule text on the screen changed, and Darcy realized he was  _ reading. _ “You assume someone  _ gave _ this to me? I thought I had a reputation, but clearly I am failing to live up to it.”

 

Still behind the seat, Darcy stuck out her tongue and mouthed Loki’s words while rolling her eyes. She sidled around and leaned back to half-sit on the ship controls. “So you’re too busy to teach me how to be some badass witch?”

 

Swipe. “Correct.”

 

Darcy lunged forward to grab for the tablet, but without even looking up, Loki caught hold of her wrist. She flinched and shuddered, dismayed at how easily his touch sent a thrill down her spine.  _ God, it has been too long, hasn’t it? Focus.  _ She jerked her hand back. “Has anyone told you that you’re a real asshole?”

 

Loki’s eyes flickered up briefly. “As I recall, you did just this morning.”

 

“Yeah, well…” Darcy crossed her arms. “Get used to it.”

 

“You wound me,” Loki replied dryly. “Truly, the worst insult ever spat in my direction.”

 

Darcy wanted to kick his stupid feet in their stupid boots off the stupid ship controls. Instead, she poked at his legs until he sighed and brought them down. A little mollified, she tried again. “Come on, it can’t be that hard.”

 

The look on Loki’s face was derisive and condescending and perfect fodder for filing away to remember anytime Darcy wanted to kill her inexplicable ladyboner. “I have studied magic for millenia. I know secrets and arcana beyond mortal Midgardian capabilities.”

 

“Sooooo… more than qualified to teach me.” Darcy couldn’t stare too long at Loki’s face without feeling a flustered heat creep up her cheeks.  _ Murderous space Viking. He’s a murderous space Viking. Who looked pretty good tied down to my - STOP IT. _

 

Loki rolled his eyes. “Qualified? It’s beneath me.”

 

“You know,” Darcy began, ears starting to ring and fingers starting to twitch. “In all those  _ millenia, _ you should have learned some manners.”

 

Loki looked back down at the tablet. “I apologize.  _ Please _ leave me be.”

 

With her rising frustration came that rising humming feeling in Darcy’s head and chest. Her ears were ringing louder and she felt her fingertips grow warm. She shot a crackle of  _ something _ at Loki, glittering and red, and when he merely flicked it away like he was swatting a fly, her chest tightened and head lightened with more frustration. “It doesn’t  _ have _ to be like that!” Her voice rose in pitch, almost whiny, and she wanted to keep throwing all this weird power at him, over and over again.

 

When Loki looked up again, his eyes met Darcy’s, and a crease appeared between his brows. His eyes might have been alarmed, or even concerned, but any of  _ that _ that Darcy saw was instantly thrown out the window the second he spoke. “Calm. Down.”

 

Darcy had a healthy list of pet peeves: people who walked too slow on the sidewalk, pockets that turned out to be more decorative than functional, tall people in the front row at concerts, and being corrected or dismissed entirely because she was a petite woman with a voice just this side of nasal. But the ultimate offense that was guaranteed to set her off? A man telling her to calm down.

 

“I will  _ not _ calm down!” She leaned over to jab her fingers at Loki’s chest with every word, and this time? This time her fingers were glowing, sparking, leaving little singe marks on that  _ ridiculous _ leather covering his torso. “I am  _ trying _ to figure out how to be  _ useful _ on the weirdest team of people I’ve ever  _ met _ and for the love of God, could you just  _ help me _ with  _ some of that? _ ” She felt that coiling sensation in her chest again, and she was ready to explode, or make something else explode, or hell,  _ por que no los dos? _

 

Loki took hold of both her wrists this time. “Miss Lewis, please calm  _ down. _ ”

 

“God  _ dammit! _ ” Darcy pushed forward with all her might, all her anger, all her  _ magic _ , and with a sudden horror realized that she was pushing against something else. And that something else made it all ricochet back like a rifle’s recoil and her lower back slammed back against the controls. “Fuck,” she whispered, and her vision swam as she let herself slide down to the floor.

 

She was dimly aware of what happened after. She blinked once, and Loki was standing over her. Blinked again, and he was crouching down, hands hovering at her sides for a moment before he stood back up abruptly and left. Blinked a third time, everything resolving back into clear focus, and Thor and Val were above her. Val helped her to her feet. “C’mon. Up you go.”

 

Darcy leaned on Val, who guided her across the command deck, slowly but surely. She heard snatches of a hushed argument behind them, indistinct, until a single phrase, in that self-assured pompous voice, pierced through the fog in her head.

 

“She’s a child.”

 

Darcy turned her head as much as she could without it hurting. “Fuck you, asshole.” She sniffled.  _ Am I crying? Why am I crying? Jesus. _ Val’s hand squeezed hers, and they resumed their walk, with nothing but silence to follow them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's that? Darcy speaks in pop culture references? Duh. Darcy is all of us, and don't all of us speak in pop culture references?
> 
> This chapter really ran away from me in the best way, and I didn't even include everything I had planned! That's what the next chapter's for.
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading this! The fact that I'm making people laugh and enjoy something makes me so happy.


	9. Put On Your Red Shoes And Dance The Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Against all odds, this might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meant to post this on Christmas Eve/Christmas Day, but life happened. So merry late holiday ya filthy animals.

When she found the door to the shower adjoining her bunk, Darcy officially stopped caring about where the spaceship water was coming from. The thought of hot water on her banged-up back was the single most heavenly thing she could think of in this moment. All she was missing was a cheap, ice cold beer. Liquor is quicker for sure, and Tony Stark’s personal stash was much nicer than anything Darcy could’ve ever afforded, but sometimes a girl just needs to chug a High Life while she stands in a steam-filled shower stall and pretends the hot water on her face is just from the shower head.

 

 _Why am I upset? I kind of am a child compared to them._ Darcy turned off the water and wrung out her hair. “Because you’re thirty goddamn years old, that’s why,” she muttered to herself as she toweled off. “You’re a grown-ass woman.” She nudged the button to open the shower door with her hip. “And he didn’t have to be a raging dick about it.”

 

By the time she got dressed and braided her damp hair, her stomach was starting to growl. She’d only snagged a pre-packaged muffin that morning, and she had a feeling that the shrink-wrapped pastry supply was going to go fast. With a deep breath, she pocketed the music player and tapped her door button. “Okay. Food. You need food. And booze.”

 

It didn’t take long to find a freezer, and in the freezer were some blessedly familiar sights. Like frozen burritos and taquitos. “Yes, yes, _yes._ ” And of all things to have, this ship had a microwave. Darcy hadn’t met Tony Stark in person, but she was ninety percent sure that this was his design and directly in line with his character. (Well, the frozen taquitos were, maybe. On second thought, a microwave seemed pretty practical for outer space.) Minutes later, microwaved Tex-Mex dinner in hand, she found her bottle of whiskey from the night before and set off for the cargo bay.

 

Val was there, seated cross-legged on the mat, elbows on her knees and her own bottle in her hand. She turned when she heard Darcy approach and raised the liquor - tequila, it seemed - and flashed a toothy grin. “Feeling better?”

 

“Tons.” Darcy plopped down across from Val on the mat. “Hey, uh… thanks for helping me out.”

 

Val waved a hand. “‘Course. Gotta have each others’ backs out here.”

 

With a sigh, Darcy leaned back. “When’s Loki gonna get that memo?”

 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but…” Val took a small sip of tequila. “Maybe you should cut him a little slack.”

 

Darcy snorted. “You’re joking.”

 

The look Val gave her was the opposite of joking. “My experience with the royal family of Asgard is complicated.” She unfolded her legs and stretched out a bit. “The family itself is complicated, actually. You’ve got Odin, who banishes his elder son for fuck all, doesn’t tell the younger son that he’s adopted, and locks away his first born daughter that he never even _bothered_ to tell his sons about.” She took a bigger, Val-sized swig this time and stared at Darcy. “The daughter who slaughtered the rest of the Valkyrior when Odin sent us to get her back under control, when she tried testing her limits.”

 

Darcy blinked once, twice. “I… fuck. I’m sorry.”

 

Val shrugged. “I’ve done all the feeling sorry about it already.” Her face suddenly looked pained. “So yeah, honestly, maybe you should cut us all a little slack around here. We’ve been through a lot.”

 

Darcy scowled. “I might not be an intergalactic war veteran, but losing your best friend all because some big purple dildo got delusional isn’t all sunshine and rainbows either.”

 

Val slouched forward again. She frowned and tapped the tequila bottle against her feet. “It’s not a pissing contest, you know.”

 

Darcy sighed. “I know. Sorry. I guess we’ve all got PTSD, huh?”

 

“I’ve got a drinking problem. I don’t know about you.” As if to emphasize her point, Val pounded the tequila again.

 

 _You have no idea._ It was Darcy’s turn to take a big gulp from her bottle. _God, this whiskey is smooth._ She felt it burn, not unpleasantly, all the way down, and warmth spread through her fast-loosening limbs. At a loss for words - real words, meaningful words - she pulled the music player (that she’d mentally dubbed the SpacePod) out of her pocket. “So, uh… music?”

 

Val jerked her chin at the thing. “Got anymore of that sad bastard music?”

 

Darcy grinned. “Always.”

 

_Look at you kids with your vintage music, coming through satellites while cruising…_

 

When swaying while sitting on the floor became too awkward, Darcy stood up and turned around in a slow circle, eyes closed, smile on her face. _You’re part of the past but now you’re the future, signals crossing can get confusing…_

 

Soon, Val was standing too, reaching out to grab Darcy’s hand and spin her around. “Is this the sad girl from earlier?”

 

Darcy put down her whiskey bottle and grabbed Val’s other hand. “Yes it is. But she’s not always sad. This song is pretty optimistic.”

 

It was Val’s turn to spin around. “She still sounds sad to me.”

 

“But she’s singing about love.” Darcy swayed. “And how it’s enough.” She looked at Val. “It’s a far cry from all the daddy issues on her other albums.”

 

“Ha!” Val took another drink. She tilted her head at Darcy and smiled. “You know, I haven’t danced since… well, since Asgard. Before Hela. Before those two idiots we’re traveling with even hit puberty.”

 

Darcy tilted her head right back. “Wait a second. All of you look the same age.” She waved her hands. “Never mind. Space time continuum alien Viking weirdness.”

 

A genuine laugh from Val this time. “Space time continuum alien Viking weirdness,” she echoed.

 

The two swayed and spun some more. The song trailed off and Darcy picked her whiskey back up. “So, I give Prince Daddy Issues The Younger a second… third… fourth chance?” Her face scrunched up a bit. “Fifth? I’m losing count.”

 

One of Val’s shoulders twitched up, along with the corner of her mouth. “Usually how it goes.”

 

Darcy sighed. “Fine.” She looked down at the SpacePod. “I can play something other than Lana if you want.”

 

“Actually, I like the sad girl.” Val inhaled deeply and looked so relaxed on the exhale, Darcy wasn’t even sure she was the same person anymore. She gestured at the music player. “More hopeful sad girl.”

 

Darcy smiled. “You got it.”

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning was measurably better than the previous one. For one, Darcy hadn’t had enough time to get schwasty-faced; she’d been too busy obliging Val with more twirly dancing and bad singing, which seemed to cheer her up, which cheered Darcy up. It was nice, actually. She missed Jane. She’d always miss Jane, at least until they got everyone back, if they could actually get everyone back. But she needed friends more than anything else in this weird, wacky, rapidly-expanding universe she’d been thrust into, and against all odds, Darcy started to think that maybe Val could be a friend.

 

Darcy yawned and stretched on her way up to the kitchen. She tapped the coffee controls - it was all in one, which she hadn’t noticed before, and all she had to do was hit one button to grind and brew and the machine took care of the rest - and busied herself looking for a clean cup. She heard footsteps behind her and she sighed. “I know you’re there, Loki.”

 

Loki, standing in the doorway, cleared his throat in answer. “Miss Lewis, I…” He paused. “I came to…”

 

Darcy turned to face him. “Thor’s making you apologize?”

 

Loki’s grimace twitched to a reluctant, badly-concealed smile. “Thor’s making me apologize.”

 

Darcy snatched up a muffin and busied herself with unwrapping it. “I’ll take it.” She looked up at Loki. “I mean, I can hold a grudge like it’s going out of style, don’t get me wrong.” She took a bite of the muffin and made a face. “Is this blueberry? I wanted chocolate chip. Ugh.”

 

All this earned from Loki was a confused blink. “Pardon?”

 

Darcy tossed the muffin back onto the counter. “That’s what I get for trying to do this without coffee or contacts.” She took off her glasses and made a futile attempt at cleaning the smudged, scratched lenses on her t-shirt. “Okay. Grudges.”

 

Loki folded his arms. “You’re making this entire effort far too drawn-out.”

 

“Nuh-uh.” Darcy held up a finger. “Not how apologies work. Let me finish.” She poured a cup of coffee, letting the silence draw on until Loki started tapping the fingers of his right hand against his left arm. “I don’t know the finer points of your whole bad-boy-with-daddy-issues story, and really, that still doesn’t excuse you from being a dickweed - “

 

Loki brought a fist up to his mouth and coughed, and Darcy could see that he was trying to hide another smile. She felt a flush of warmth at that but she barreled on, ignoring it. “...but we’re all stuck together. For now. So I figure, let’s make the best of it.” She stared at her free hand and willed her fingers to do the sparkly thing. To her delight, they did. She looked back up at Loki and gave a little wave. “Plus, you owe me.”

 

The surprised look on Loki’s face was one for the books. Normally so guarded - _and smug,_ Darcy reminded herself, _disgustingly smug_ \- he stared at Darcy in genuine confusion and a little alarm. “What?”

 

 _Ha! Not even an “I beg your pardon,” fancy man?_ “You owe me.” Darcy smiled into her coffee. “I brought you back, didn’t I?”

 

Loki was still regarding Darcy’s glowy waving hand with apprehension. “Do you intend to send me to another death?”

 

Darcy let out a slightly manic giggle. “I might.”

 

Loki brought a hand up, slowly, like he wanted to reach out and push Darcy’s hand back down, but stopped just short of actually doing it. “I’d… rather you didn’t, if it’s all the same.”

 

 _Bingo._ “So teach me.”

 

“What exactly am I supposed to teach you?” Loki was still staring at Darcy’s glowing hand, face growing increasingly concerned.

 

“I dunno.” Darcy looked to the side, to the ceiling, anywhere but actually in front of her. She waved her sparkle-hand around. “Magic. How it works, how to use it without passing out every other time I try. All that stuff.” A spark flew from her index finger to the wall, which made sparks of a mechanical kind start flying, and to her dismay, the coffee machine spluttered and for all intents and purposes died. “Shit! See?”

 

This time Loki did reach over and closed his hand around Darcy’s fingers. “You make a compelling argument.” He pushed her hand back down. “Fine. If it keeps you from accidentally killing us all, I’ll teach you.”

 

Darcy suddenly almost forgot about the coffee maker. Darcy almost never forgot about coffee, or the machines that made it, especially when the machines that made it were broken. However, she was starting to find this whole bodily-contact-with-Loki thing incredibly distracting. She jerked her hand away from his. “Great. So first off, how do I fix this?”

 

* * *

 

 

Sparring with Val was a little easier without the big thwacky sticks, and a lot easier without an audience. Everyone had come to watch again, but when Val reached for the largest of her blades as she told them to beat it, everyone seemed to think better of it. Darcy happily learned, over the course of what she only learned later was hours, the finer points of disarming an opponent at close range without a taser _or_ beams of magical energy. Darcy herself had been disarmed at least ten times for every one hit she managed to get on Val. When Val finally let up, Darcy flopped down on the mat. “Do we have ice packs? Or hot packs? Or Icy-Hot packs?”

 

Val stood over Darcy with her arms crossed. “That was better, you know.”

 

Darcy gave her a thumbs up, still lying on the ground. “Can’t go anywhere but up when you’re at rock bottom, right?”

 

Val grinned and walked away, and Darcy was perfectly content to keep lying back, staring up at the ceiling. It occurred to her that she’d never thought about what a spaceship ceiling would look like. Maybe she’d just imagined some weird shiny plating with an ominous fan, like the bubbly drink room in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. Or maybe huge window panes, like skylights, though now that she thought about it, that seemed dangerous and impractical. Here it was a lot of ductwork and pipes, almost like one of those hipster restaurants with uncomfortable chairs and expensive cocktails that she avoided like the plague. She was almost disappointed at how ordinary it looked.

 

Her arms and legs and back felt like lead. _This is why I don’t work out,_ she thought idly, more observation than true misery or complaint. She closed her eyes, bored with the gray ductwork. _Wonder what lessons with Space Snape are gonna be like today._

 

It occurred to her that a god of mischief and lies could just be fucking with her. He’d probably teach her how to turn someone into a frog, or singe off her own eyebrows, or short circuit _everything_ on the ship. (Granted, he had fixed the coffee situation, but Darcy suspected that he was a closet caffeine addict with a personal stake in the whole thing.) Plus, her lust-addled-stomach-flip-flopping was going to be… a problem.

 

It wasn’t that she made a habit of finding men of questionable moral fiber attractive. She liked them good and sweet and easy to wrap around her little finger. Ian was that way. Nonthreatening in that adorably awkward British way, up for anything, and fun to boss around. _So why did I dump him?_

 

The answer wasn’t far behind. _Because he was predictable._

 

Sure, predictability is stability, and stability is healthy, but Darcy wasn’t sure that she was ready to entirely give up making questionable choices in her life. _Case in point, everything happening right now._

 

Something heavy and cold thunked onto her belly. Darcy’s eyes snapped open. “Owww!”

 

Val stood over her with a bag full of ice in her hands. Darcy gingerly lifted off the one that had been dropped on her stomach. Val dropped the other one beside Darcy’s head. “Brought you an ice pack!”

 

Darcy sat up. “Thanks,” she croaked.

 

* * *

 

 

Darcy still felt like she’d been sucker-punched by the time she stomped up to the command deck with two tumblers and the last quarter of her bourbon bottle in hand. Loki was there, engrossed in whatever he was reading, and Darcy trudged her way over. She plopped the cups and bottle down on the controls with as much noise as she could manage. No response. She unceremoniously flopped down into the copilot seat and found, to her delight, that it swiveled. In fact, it spun. She gave it a good spin and kicked her legs out and was disappointed to see that she was too short to quite reach the other seat with her feet. “Hey.” When Loki didn’t respond, she spun around again, making an even bigger racket. “Heyyyyyyy.”

 

Loki finally looked up. “Patience is a virtue, miss Lewis.”

 

Darcy crossed her arms, still pushing the seat side to side as she faced him. “Didn’t think virtue was your thing.”

 

Loki’s shrug was nearly imperceptible. “You would be surprised.” He held up his free hand, and another one of the forbidden data pads shimmered into view in his grasp. He inclined his head slightly, looking at Darcy with raised brows. “If you can be patient for a moment longer, I may even have a reward.” That _look_ of his, the one Darcy found at once annoying and a more than a little pulse-racing, settled in his eyes, and he settled back into the familiar smirk.

 

Darcy brought her chair to a halt and drummed her fingers on the arms. She leveled her own stare at Loki’s, hoping that she looked half as smug as he did, and waited for his eyes to drop again. When they did, she pushed against the chair arms and lunged forward.

 

Naturally, Loki anticipated this move, and pushed his feet to twist his own chair around. What he must not have anticipated was that Darcy was tenacious to a fault. She saw him turning and feinted to the opposite side, ready to pounce and grab what she rightfully saw as her new toy out of his hand. With a few steps and another push, she had it.

 

Trouble was, she also had her right boob smushed against Loki’s face.

 

Darcy leapt back with the data pad in both hands. Loki’s eyes were wide and - _holy shit is he really? -_ the faintest flush appeared along his cheekbones. Darcy bounced back over to the copilot’s seat and turned her full attention to her shiny new piece of contraband. “You stole this for me? You shouldn’t have.”

 

When she finally braved a glance back at Loki, he’d collected himself with impressive speed. “I can put it right back, you know.”

 

Darcy stuck out her lower lip and hugged the tablet to her chest. “Don’t you dare. I’ll zap you again.”

 

Loki cleared his throat. “I had a purpose in mind for this, miss Lewis.”

 

“Really? I thought you were trying to get brownie points.” Darcy looked down at the tablet and pushed the home button. The screen flickered on, and on it was a wall of text that looked very old and very boring. She looked back up at Loki and exaggerated her pout even further. “What _is_ this?”

 

Loki lifted an eyebrow. “Words, put together in sentences, which make up paragraphs, which eventually become a book.”

 

“Smartass,” Darcy muttered. “I didn’t know I’d be zooming through space _reading_ to pass the time.”

 

Loki leaned over to pick up the bourbon bottle. “As agreeable as it is to spend the time drinking, you’ve made me promise to teach you the workings of magic.” He opened the whiskey and poured a measure into each of the stainless steel tumblers. He picked one up and gestured to the tablet in Darcy’s hands. “There’s quite a bit there, so I suggest starting immediately.”

 

Darcy huffed and snatched up her own drink. “Fine.”

 

An hour later, she put the tablet down in her lap and sighed. “How can you just sit there and read for so long?”

 

Loki’s attention to his own reading was unwavering. “Centuries of practice.”

 

Darcy poured herself another drink. “So what’s this mean about _seidr_? I keep seeing the word and like, I _guess_ it means magic, but then it gets all weird and theoretical and I feel like I’ve gotta cross my eyes halfway. But with, like, my brain.” She stole a sideways glance at Loki.  __Goddamn, but he was pretty to look at, especially when his full attention wasn't on her. _It's like staring into the freaking sun._ At that thought, Darcy wanted to slap herself on the face, she was so annoyed with herself.

 

Loki half-smiled, eyes still down at the tablet in his hand. “For a twenty-first century Midgardian, you’ve caught on to the concept rather quickly.”

 

Darcy sighed. “But I don’t _feel_ like these weird powers I got work that way.”

 

This time Loki did look up at her. “Perhaps not _now,_ with the ability so newly acquired, but with time…” He shrugged, refilling his own drink. “I know you take offense to being called a child, but in terms of magic, that’s what you are.”

 

At this, Darcy abruptly stopped the slow spin she’d initiated with the chair. “Fair point.” She pushed back to face Loki. “Is that why I feel like I need a nap every time I do too much? I mean, kind of need a nap. Okay, my body forces me to take a nap.”

 

To her surprise, Loki laughed. It was an odd thing, to see genuine mirth on his face. He didn’t look old to begin with - _definitely not thousands of years old -_ but laughing lifted something intangibly aged about him, and he looked to be so young and at such ease, and Darcy had the feeling he hadn’t truly laughed in good humor in a long, long time. It made her stomach do that weird flip-floppy thing again, but she didn’t want to go climb his dumb body like a tree. Instead, she wanted to make him laugh some more.

 

She pulled her knees up to her chest and clutched her tumbler with both hands. “What was it like for you to learn magic as a kid?” Her brows furrowed. “Wait. Can Viking space gods be kids?”

 

Loki was still smiling. “My youth was _quite_ well-spent.” He pushed the nearly-empty whiskey an inch toward Darcy. “We may need another bottle.”

 

* * *

 

 

Val walked up to the command deck to find Thor standing just outside the doorway. She gave him a nudge with her elbow and he turned his head. He brought a finger up to his lips and tilted his head. Val folded her arms and listened, expecting to hear fighting.

 

Instead, she heard laughter. Darcy’s laughter, to be exact, and Loki’s low tones, indistinct but certainly not irritable or resigned. She quirked her brows and widened her eyes at Thor, who jerked his head back toward the hall away from the deck.

 

When they’d gotten out of earshot, Val spoke first. “What on earth did you say to him?”

 

“Me? I was going to ask what you said to Darcy.” Thor paused and turned to look back. “I haven’t heard him sound so happy in years.”

 

Val was ready to make a crack about Loki and his propensity for faking his way through anything, but she saw something almost forlorn in Thor’s eyes. She wanted to rest a hand on his shoulder, tell him it was all right, reassure him that he could perhaps speak normally to his brother again and maybe even _be brothers again._ Instead, she simply turned around, hands on her hips. “Do you think we’ve made a mistake, putting those two together?”

 

An amused sound came from Thor’s throat. “It’s possible.” He glanced at Val and looked ready to say something else, but another familiar voice from behind them interrupted him.

 

“Guys? Where are we?”

 

Thor and Val turned to see Bruce shuffling up the hall with a sheet wrapped around his middle. They looked at each other, then at Bruce, then back to one another. "Oh..." Thor began. 

Val finished the thought. "...shit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen I just think Darcy would really be a fan of Lana Del Rey. Also, the video for "Love" (the song mentioned here) gives me all kinds of Darcy/Loki feels with its vintage space hipster vibe.
> 
> Also! I may start going a little longer between updates. I'm aiming for weekly, but I'm working on some other Big Projects that involve like... characters I made MYSELF and aren't owned by Marvel. So basically, if I go a couple of weeks between updating this fic at some point, it's not abandoned! Just one of several pots I have on the stove, so to speak.
> 
> xoxo you're all lovely for reading


	10. Rule Number One Is That You Gotta Have Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick jokes and drinking games. Just another day on this particular spaceship.

"So let me get this straight." Natasha massaged her temples. "You just... de-Hulked. Out of nowhere. No reason."

 

"I don't know, Nat." Bruce, still wrapped in a sheet, sat down at the end of the table, opposite Thor and Val. "You know how it's been..."

 

Val cast a sidelong look at Bruce. "Are you saying you have trouble... getting the big guy out?" She bit her lip to keep from laughing.

 

Bruce ran his hands through his hair and looked ready to respond in earnest, until he saw Val and Thor both looking like they were about to burst. "Guys.  _ Guys. _ It's not... like that."

 

Thor reached over to grasp Bruce’s arm and give him a companionable shake. "You know, it's completely normal for a man to have problems performing when he needs to most."

 

Even Natasha looked a bit tickled. She shook her head vehemently when Bruce turned to the data pad screen, his eyes pleading. "Nope. You do not want me to get involved in this conversation."

 

Bruce let out an exasperated sigh. "C'mon. Korg? Miek? Anyone gonna help me out here?"

 

Korg shrugged. "Hey, man, there's no shame in it. Just part of life, you know?"

 

Bruce's forehead fell forward into his palms. "I give up."

 

Natasha cleared her throat. "Performance issues aside, this means we need Korg to be muscle if it's needed." She peered at Korg. "You... can be a berserker, right?"

 

Korg held up the floppy Miek. "Miek here is good with slicing things up." He paused. "Well, maybe not now. So ah. Yes. I can berserk."

 

Natasha nodded and looked around what she could see of the room. "Hey, where's the snark twins?"

 

Val and Thor looked at one another. "We, uh," Thor began. "Didn't want to interrupt."

 

"The magic training," Val added hastily. "They were still working on something when your comm came through."

 

Natasha leaned back and raised her eyebrows. "Huh. That happened sooner than I expected."

 

Val gave the screen a sideways look. "You planned for this?"

 

"Listen, like you said, I don't trust Loki any farther than I can throw him." Natasha shrugged. "But I'm not above giving him a reason to stick around and stay in line." She raised her eyebrows at Thor. "No offense. I know you guys are brothers and all, but that didn't seem to be enough to keep him from unleashing the Chitauri on us."

 

Thor nodded thoughtfully. "Mm. None taken." He looked over to Val. "It's surprising that Loki and Darcy never met before, actually. But perhaps that was for the best."

 

Natasha let out an undignified cross between a laugh and a snort. "Are you kidding? I've seen Darcy's file. They'd have both leveled a major city just for the hell of it if they’d met before now." She paused again. "Well, maybe not level one. But definitely usurp the existing government."

 

Bruce raked a hand through his hair again. "And getting them to be friends now is a good idea how?"

 

Val narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips as she stared at Natasha. She leaned back. "Darcy's the only one he doesn't have a history with. Personal interest without baggage." She cocked her head. "I don't hate it."

 

Natasha nodded. "Keep an eye on them, obviously. And Val, maybe we need to work on arming her." She tapped off to the side of her own screen, eyes scanning something, and pressed her lips together in a line. “Now, as for your rendezvous on Xandar…”

 

* * *

 

 

To his great and continued surprise, Loki found Darcy increasingly  _ interesting. _

 

In itself, this was not a new phenomenon. On the whole, Earth managed to produce a handful of interesting women (and men; he wasn't one to discriminate) in every generation. Loki was a curious creature by nature, and while he found many and varied curious amusements in most of the Nine Realms, and it was nice to be worshiped as a god by the mortals of Midgard. After all, what else was there to do with a life so long as his?

 

(This made him nearly reach up to touch his throat again. All thoughts of his life reminded him that he'd not had it for a brief time, and Darcy's words -  _ you owe me _ \- rang in his head. The God of Mischief did not tend to acquire debts, much less life debts, and that was more uncomfortable than the knowledge that he had died.)

 

But Darcy was not  _ interesting _ in the way that many mortals he had known before had proven interesting. He had known artists and poets and lotharios who carried renown (or, more often, infamy). They were all clear targets for the attentions of one such as himself. And then... then there was Darcy Lewis.

 

In his own extensive reading since their foolhardy mission began, Loki had not found a satisfactory explanation for how Darcy could have summoned him from the afterlife itself. There was Banner's scientific reasoning for her acquisition of power, true, but it still did not explain how a woman with ostensibly no prior knowledge of how to work even the most rudimentary manipulation of reality managed to bring him back. It barely explained how she could even wield power at all without her body exhausting itself from the effort.

 

(Then again, she did tend to pass out with too much magical exertion. He was not  _ concerned. _ Loki did not exhibit  _ concern. _ He had most certainly  _ not _ felt his heart drop when the force of Darcy's fledgling powers had bounced back on her when he blocked it with his own instinctual shield charm the day before. Preposterous.)

 

Darcy was seated cross-legged in the command deck's second chair, eyes closed, breaths slowing and deepening. He'd told her to concentrate and, as she'd so charmingly put it, "go cross-eyed in her brain" in order to focus her energy into creating a simple circle of light. He could see her eyes twitching behind closed lids and her lips were parted and he felt the sudden urge to --

 

No. He would not.  _ Absolutely _ not. And he would banish any future inclinations from his mind.

 

Darcy's eyes snapped open and she looked down at her palms with delight. "Oh my God," she said as she watched the light between them coalesce into a spinning sphere. "I'm doing it. Lokes, I'm  _ doing _ it!"

 

He let the unfortunate nickname slide. It was miles better than Space Snape. He abruptly switched his focus from Darcy's wide grin to the dancing red light hovering between her hands. "Now stop it."

 

Darcy's brow furrowed and she stared at the ball like she could will it into nonexistence. Of course, that was  _ technically _ what she was trying to do. Slowly, the sphere shrank to a pinprick and vanished entirely. Darcy clapped her hands and laughed and let one foot down to the floor to push her seat into a spin. "Woo! I did it! Check me out now!"

 

Loki sat back and watched Darcy's spin slow to a stop and her laugh suddenly turn to a yawn. He actually felt  _ proud _ of her. It must have been the close quarters and the inexplicable dilation of time, where hours felt like days, that made Loki feel as though he'd lived a year’s worth of emotion in such a short time, all focused on the incorrigible and incomprehensible Darcy Lewis.

 

He must have been staring, because Darcy’s ears were tinged bright pink. "I, uh..." She scooped up her data pad and scrambled to stand. "I better get to bed. Dunno about you but if I don't get a full eight hours I'm a cranky asshole."

 

Loki schooled his expression into something cool and sardonic, but he couldn't resist a clever reply. "By your measure I must not sleep nearly enough."

 

There was that bright grin of hers again. Darcy took a step to lean over and give him a light punch on the arm. "Jokes? From you? I thought I'd maxed out on surprises here."

 

He smiled back before he could stop himself. "You'll find I'm full of surprises, Miss Lewis."

 

Darcy was  _ absolutely _ blushing now - something Loki was beginning to find almost  _ endearing  _ \- and she averted her eyes. She hugged the data pad to her chest and looked as if she might say something, but she seemed to think better of it and turned to leave. "Night, Lokes."

 

“Goodnight, Miss Lewis.” Loki turned back to face the ship controls and picked up what was left of his drink. He did not turn back around until he was certain that Darcy’s footsteps had disappeared down the hall. He did not need to allow himself the distraction. Instead, he drained the cup dry and waited a few moments longer before returning to his own quarters.

 

Loki had begun to find Darcy  _ too _ interesting.

 

* * *

 

 

Val didn't mince words when Darcy arrived in the cargo bay for her day's training. "Found some light body armor. You're gonna need it." 

 

Darcy yawned. "Good morning to you too.” She stretched her arms up and out. “What, we're gonna shoot rubber bullets at each other or something? I thought they had lasers in space." She made her fingers into guns and mimed shooting at Val, with a few  _ pew pew _ sounds thrown in for good measure.

 

Shaking her head, Val simply held the hilt of a knife out to Darcy. "Wake up. Sleepy people get stabbed."

 

That did the trick. Darcy's eyes widened and she took the knife. "Wow. Um, okay. Lemme suit up."

 

They started out easy. Val had spent the hour before making a dummy from clothes and sheets and pillows, and she showed Darcy all the best places to drive a knife point into. Her eyes flicked up at the bridge, where their fellow motley crew members had collected to watch. She waved her knife. "I said no audience!"

 

"It's fine." Darcy tossed her head back with false bravado. "I can't fuck up stabbing a dummy too bad."

 

Val jerked her head at said man-sized pincushion. "Well go on then. Stab him in a kidney."

 

Darcy wrinkled her nose and narrowed her eyes at the dummy. She thrust her arm forward and drove the knife into the dummy. "Raaaaahhhh!"

 

Val rolled her eyes. "That was his bladder."

 

Darcy yanked the knife back out. "Well now he'll have a hell of a time taking a piss." She glanced up at the bridge and grinned.

 

Following Darcy's gaze, Val saw that Loki had deigned to join the rest of them. She leaned down behind Darcy to murmur in her ear. "Made a friend, have we?"

 

Darcy started to fidget. "What am I supposed to do?" She hissed and backed away from Val and the dummy. She raised her voice. "Okay. So where's this dude's heart?"

 

Val smirked. "Right about... here." She took her own blade and thrust it between imaginary ribs. "And don't forget to give it a good twist before you're done."

 

Now it was Darcy's turn to lean in conspiratorially. She pitched her voice low, just above a whisper. "That what you're gonna do to Thor?"

 

Val froze. "You and me," she said, pulling her knife from the dummy. "Need to have another conversation after dinner." She turned around and saw that Darcy wore a smirk almost as self-satisfied as the many she’d seen on Loki’s face.

 

Darcy even sounded self-satisfied, too. “I love girl talk.” Her eyes, though, looked less certain. Her gaze looked a little worried, actually, particularly with Val twirling a knife in front of her.

 

Val’s hand stilled. “It’s not bad,” she murmured. “But we do need to talk. About the royal dummies.”

 

“What are you two whispering about?” Thor’s voice boomed down at the pair from above.

 

Val turned and gave him a salute with her knife. “Male anatomy.” She looked at Darcy. “Go on, show ‘em where I told you to stab next.”

 

With a wicked grin, Darcy lunged again, aiming her blade much lower than the dummy’s theoretical bladder.

 

* * *

 

 

By this point, Darcy counted on her space magic lessons to be much, much easier than her ass-kicking lessons. She was a little surprised to find that she even looked forward to it this time.  _ It’s just because you’re getting better, _ she thought.  _ And because Loki’s decided to be nice for now. _ For now. She had to keep reminding herself of that part - the dude was mercurial as hell (thanks, word of the day calendar) - and reminding herself of the fact that what went on in her ladyparts had absolutely no bearing on whether or not he could actually be trusted.

 

She wanted to trust him, though.

 

Darcy bounced on the balls of her feet up to the command deck. To her surprise, Loki was standing instead of sitting, facing Darcy as she crested the short stairwell.  _ Well, now I know that he actually moves from that spot. _ She waved. “Sup, Lokes.”

 

He winced a little bit at the nickname, which tickled Darcy, before replying. “I suppose I should have told you to meet me back at the cargo bay. We have some more practical applications to study today.” With that, he vanished.

 

Darcy’s mouth gaped open. “You did that on purpose, asshole!” Naturally, there was no response, but she hoped that Loki heard her shouting nonetheless. She turned around and went stomping back.

 

Loki was indeed down on the cargo bay floor, pacing in a slow circle around the mat, apparently deep in thought. He didn’t even look up when Darcy noisily stomped some more on her way down the steel grating of the bridge steps. Darcy noticed, when she got a little closer, that his hand was at his neck, tracing the faded yellow bruises that still lingered. She almost felt guilty for calling him an asshole all the time.  _ But dying doesn’t stop you from being an asshole. _

 

She sidestepped in front of Loki when he rounded the corner of the mat closest to her. “Is it you this time?” To make sure, Darcy held out a hand to push against Loki’s chest. God, he was solid. Like, really solid. Like, hiding a lot of strength in those tall lanky dude muscles solid. “Yep. One hundred percent real Asgardian jerkoff.”

 

Finally, Loki looked up. He looked as if he was going for dry and withering, with the twist of his mouth, but his eyes betrayed his amusement. “And here I thought we’d developed a measure of civility, Miss Lewis.”

 

“D’you have to keep calling me that?” Darcy realized that her hand was still pressed to Loki’s torso and she jerked it back. “‘Miss Lewis’ makes me feel old.”

 

“I recall you objecting to being thought of as young.” Loki definitely looked wholly amused now. His eyes followed Darcy’s hand. “Hit me.”

 

_ Oh my God. _ Darcy chewed on her lip and managed to turn on her brain-to-mouth filter for once in her life. Well, mostly turned it on. “I mean, if that’s what you’re into, dude.” She raised her arm and went in for a slap aimed at Loki’s face.  _ On those stupid sharp cheekbones. _

 

Before Darcy’s palm could make contact, Loki caught her by the wrist. He leaned forward. “With magic,” he added.

 

_ Help me Jesus, help me Tom Cruise, help me Oprah. _ Darcy tried to not make her heavy breathing be so obvious when Loki apparently did not intend to release her arm. Instead, she focused on her hand and splayed her fingers wide and conjured up another one of those glowing red spheres of light and let her mind go all magic-eye puzzle as she thought hard.  _ Push push push push. _

 

At such close range, it was a small miracle that Darcy’s magic didn’t immediately knock Loki’s head back. His reflexes must have been quicker than any normal human’s, because he managed to bring up his other hand and do  _ something _ that made the magical energy coming straight for his jaw dissipate instead. He finally let go of Darcy’s hand and backed away. “Again.”

 

Darcy took a deep breath and summoned up more of the energy. Again, Loki deflected it, but he looked rather pleased, rather than alarmed. He kept moving away, putting more distance between the two of them. “Again.”

 

It was harder to control where all that magic went, Darcy found, at longer ranges. Still, she kept at it, and soon, Loki was nearly to the wall and Darcy was able to throw the weird sparking orbs square at his heart with very little wavering. She briefly thought back to her training with Val just hours before and bit back a grin. She had a new target.

 

She held up her hands. “Give me a sec? Need a breather.” To her surprise, Loki simply nodded and crossed his arms, waiting. Darcy made a big show of stretching her back, and her neck, and her arms. She turned around and looked down at her hands and flexed her fingers. “You got this,” she said to herself. “He won’t know what hit him.”

 

With a shout, Darcy whirled around, throwing her hands out, shooting magic toward Loki, taking aim much lower than she had been. She must have caught him by surprise at least a little, because she saw his eyes widen, but it wasn’t by too much. There is one constant among humanoid dick-havers, no matter what galaxy they came from: they have almost a sixth sense of threats to their junk, and are surprisingly quick at moving to shield said junk. Loki just barely swept the attack away. The shock on his face faded and turned into wicked amusement. “Oh, so it’s like that, then,” he said, and began to walk toward Darcy.

 

Darcy realized, then, that she had no idea how to shield any magic attacks made toward her. She also realized that the sight of Loki stalking toward her, looking for all the world like he knew exactly how to make her pay, was terrifying and arousing as  _ fuck. _ “Scared  _ and _ horny,” Darcy muttered, and she started to work with her hands almost instinctively.

 

Something must have worked. With a start, Loki banged up against some kind of invisible force or wall or  _ something _ and, almost too comically to be true, stumbled backward and lost his footing and fell flat on his back. He’d had the wind knocked out of him, but not enough to keep him from speaking. “What was  _ that? _ ”

 

Darcy jumped up and down and, God help her, actually  _ clapped _ like a seal. She skipped a little bit when she went to stare down over Loki with a shit-eating grin on her face. “Didn’t see that coming either, huh?”

 

Loki’s fingers twitched and Darcy felt just like she had when Val had swept her feet from under her on that first shitty sparring day. In fact, her feet  _ were _ swept from under her again, and she came crashing down just to the side of Loki. Groaning, she brought her face up from the mat and turned it to see that Loki’s head was turned toward hers, and his own shit-eating grin was  _ awfully _ close to her own face. “And you didn’t see that coming.”

 

_ Oh shit. Oh shit. _ Darcy pushed up to a seated position as fast as she could manage. She squinted. “Where did my glasses go?”

 

She started when Loki took her hand and tugged on it. “Lean forward,” he said.

 

Darcy blushed hotly. “Are you kidding? I’m not falling for that.”

 

The details were a little fuzzy, but she was pretty sure Loki rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. I merely need to touch your eyelids, unless you’d rather be reliant on unreliable accessories to have passable vision.”

 

Darcy wrinkled her nose and turned her head. “You could just make me totally blind for all I know.” She moved again to go hunt down her glasses, but when she felt Loki squeeze her hand, she paused and looked back at him.

 

He was sitting up now, and the grin was gone, replaced by something… else? Not an upset something else, but still a serious something else. “Trust me,” he said, and Darcy felt just a touch lightheaded.

 

After a lengthy pause, she nodded. “Okay. I’ll trust you.”

 

* * *

 

 

For once, everyone was eating dinner at the same time, in the same place. Darcy collapsed into the last empty chair at the end of the table with her bowl of whatever kind of noodle-y concoction someone had come up with (Bruce, she learned later, which surprised her even more than everyone being in one room at the same time, even more than the fact that Bruce was Bruce again) and went to push up her glasses before remembering that they weren’t there anymore. She looked across the table at Loki. “Thanks for the magic Lasik, dude.”

 

Loki had gone back to looking preoccupied, but there was a small smile on his face when he looked up at Darcy. He opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by Thor’s voice from the other end of the table.

 

“We arrive on Xandar tomorrow,” Thor said, apparently ready to turn dinner into a strategy meeting now that everyone was present. He drained his bowl of the last dregs of broth at the bottom. “It’s a fairly straightforward stop. Refuel, resupply. From there, we go to Titan.”

 

Rocket pulled his head out of his over-large bowl. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but Thanos is called the Mad Titan.”

 

“Oh, you are correct, rabbit.” Thor still looked largely unbothered, but Darcy noticed that his fist clenched just the slightest bit.

 

Rocket crossed his arms. “So who’s to say he’s not gonna be there with his big magic glove to kill us all?”

 

To everyone’s surprise, Loki was the one who answered. “Titan is a dead planet. Thanos left it behind long ago, for…” He paused, cleared his throat, stared resolutely at the table, his mind was clearly a thousand light-years away. “For the Sanctuary.”

 

Silence descended on the table. Darcy couldn’t begin to describe what she saw on Loki’s face then: pain? Fear? The hundred-yard stare of accumulated trauma?  _ Or all three, _ she thought. She saw that his hands were closed in fists, white-knuckled, and she had the sudden overwhelming urge to reach across and cover them with her own hands. She held back, though.  _ Not right now. Not in front of everybody. _

 

“Loki…” Thor trailed off, unable to find the words before he even began to say them.

 

The silence grew. Darcy started to fidget. She hated silences like this. She hated the dread that had fallen, the sudden dark mood that hung heavy in the air, and she just had to fix it. Had to make everyone smile again the only way she knew how. “So uh… anyone want a drink?”

 

The relief was almost palpable when everyone else turned to look at her and began to voice their agreement. Darcy breathed a sigh of relief. This was her wheelhouse. “Hold on. Let’s have some fun with it.”

 

“What’s more fun than drinking?” Val was already standing up and pulling down liquor bottles.

 

Darcy hopped up to join her. “A drinking game.” She crossed her arms. “Anyone know if there’s playing cards on this ship?” She frowned. “Actually, if we do this with liquor, we’ll all die of alcohol poisoning.”

 

It was Thor’s turn to stand. “We have beer, you know.”

 

Rounding on Thor, Darcy threw her hands up. “Thor.  _ Thor. _ Are you serious? I could’ve had shower beers this entire time?” She looked around. “Did everyone else know we had beer? And  _ where _ have we had the beer?”

 

Her questions were met with slow nods. “This isn’t the only refrigeration unit on the ship, Darcy,” Bruce said. “Granted, I don’t think the other coolers are  _ supposed _ to be used for beer…”

 

“They’re not,” said Rocket. “But I had to put  _ something _ in them.”

 

Acquiring the beer and unearthing an unopened pack of cards was the work of minutes, and in the meantime, Darcy cleared the dishes from the table. “Okay guys. This is a frat party classic.”

 

Bruce groaned. “We’re not playing Kings Cup, are we?”

 

Darcy’s eyes nearly boggled out of her head. “You’ve been to frat parties?”

 

“I’m friends with Tony Stark.” Bruce accepted the can of Pabst that Thor held out to him. “I don’t like this game. I always lose.”

 

Darcy shuffled the cards. “There are no losers in Kings Cup,” she said archly. “There are only winners and passed-out drunks, which I think is just another kind of winner.” She slapped the deck down on the center of the table and cracked open her own beer. “I’ll go first.”

 

She drew a two. “Ooh, okay. Two is ‘you’ so I get to pick someone else to drink.” She drummed her fingers on the table, pretending to deliberate, but she knew from the moment she saw that two of clubs in her hand who she was gonna make drink. “Loki. You drink til I say stop.”

 

To her surprise, Loki obliged, and Darcy waited until he’d drunk the whole thing to speak up. “Okay, you can stop now.”

 

Loki looked at the now-empty can in his hand. “This stuff is disgusting.”

 

“Yes it is,” Darcy agreed.

 

“Tastes like fizzy water to me,” Val piped up. 

 

“Also that,” Darcy affirmed.

 

Val reached over. “My turn.” She flipped over a six.

 

Darcy raised her beer can. “Six is chicks. Bottoms up, pal.” They toasted and each took a good, long drink.

 

When Thor drew a card, it was an ace. Darcy groaned. “Shit. Okay. Ace is…”

 

“Waterfall,” finished Bruce. “We’re all about to die.”

 

Thor grinned. “What’s a waterfall?”

 

Darcy pointed to his beer. “You start chugging, and then everyone else goes down the line and starts chugging, and we can’t stop until you stop.” She drew a wobbly circle with her finger around the table to illustrate her point, then cut a fierce, if tipsy, glare at Thor. “And you can’t start drinking another one when you finish. I am  _ not _ gonna pass out this early in the game.”

 

The chugging waterfall began, and before Thor slammed down his empty can, Bruce had spluttered beer back out and Val finished hers entirely, opened another, and started drinking again. Darcy was starting to feel pretty good. By the looks of it,  _ everyone _ was starting to feel pretty good. Even Miek looked as happy as a weird little purple insect alien could look. She didn’t even realize that Loki had drawn a card until she heard his voice.

 

“So what does an eight mean, Miss L-- Darcy?”

 

Darcy made a face and avoided looking directly at Loki. “Oh boy. Uh. So eight is uh… mate.” Her face was on fire. “Means you pick someone who has to drink at the same time you do for the rest of the game, unless someone else draws an eight. Then it’s off.”

 

Loki didn’t even hesitate. “All right then.” 

 

Now Darcy looked at him. That  _ wicked _ grin of his was back. Were she stone cold sober, she might have felt a shiver go down her spine. As it was, she simply felt heat blossoming from the very parts she’d been trying to ignore.

 

“It’s your lucky day, Darcy.” Loki began to drink.

 

Darcy lifted her freshly-opened can to her lips. “Go fuuuuuck yourself,” she sing-songed under her breath, accepting her inebriated fate.

 

After another couple of rounds, it was clear that switching to beer had been the smart choice. Everyone, even the Asgardians, looked a little wobbly. Well, everyone but Korg. He stood up. “This is fun, but I think Miek needs to go lie down.”

 

Darcy giggled and saluted. “You can be my designated driver anytime, Korg.”

 

“Why thank you.” Korg picked up Miek, now limp and chattering in whatever alien language was his native language, and scooted sideways out the narrow door. “Goodnight, everyone.”

 

Val held up a card. “I got an eight.”

 

“Oh thank God.” Darcy jabbed a finger at Loki. “No more being stuck to you, Mischief Managed.”

 

Val, meanwhile, was leaning over to Thor. “Your Highness,” she said, flashing a grin. “You’re my eight mate now.”

 

Their faces were awfully close. Darcy propped her chin in her free hand and smiled.  _ Wait for it. Waaaaaaait for it. _

 

Thor broke first.

 

It was weirdly satisfying to see the God of Thunder and the last living Valkyrie smush faces. Darcy, for one, had been waiting for it to go down since she saw the two of them together. It was even more delightful to see  _ Thor _ go for it, and straight-up giggle-inducing to see Val break away only to throw her head back, drain her beer, and throw the can over her shoulder before standing up and yanking at Thor’s shirt collar. “You’re comin’ with  _ me, _ Your Majesty.”

 

Darcy poked Bruce. “Bruce! Bruce! Are you seeing this?” She tried to whisper, but it came out more like a stage whisper. A very bad stage whisper. Practically not a whisper at all.

 

“It’s ‘bout time,” Bruce mumbled. He pointed at Rocket, who was passed out on top of the table. “Lookit the raccoon. He’s got the right idea.”

 

“Oh God, is he dead?” Darcy leaned forward to give the furry lump a good poke. Rocket twitched his nose and let out a snore but stayed asleep. “Ooh, good. He’s th’ only one on this ship with good music taste.”

 

This was met with a snore. Bruce had laid his head down on the table. Val was practically dragging Thor out the doorway. Not that he was particularly resistant to what was happening. Val just happened to be much faster. Darcy giggle-snorted and gave a little wave to their backs. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

 

With the room vacated (or otherwise inhabited by passed-out lightweights), Darcy looked at Loki. Now Loki, he was still there, and awake to boot. Darcy reached over and slapped her hands on top of his. “Loki. Lokes. Listen…” She trailed off.

 

Loki lifted an eyebrow. “I’m listening?”

 

Darcy shook her head. “Right. Um. Sorry. Okay.” She tightened her grip on his fingers.  _ Long fingers. Long fingers that move a lot. Mmmm. _ “You’re kind of a dick.” She saw Loki open his mouth to respond and scrambled to save face. “Okayokayokay I mean… okay. You  _ act _ like a dick. But you’ve turned out to be… okay.”

 

Loki leaned forward. “How many more times can you say the word ‘okay’ in a sentence?”

 

Darcy waved a hand and rolled her eyes. “Like that! That’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout. But uh.” She ran the waving hand through her hair, the other still clinging on to Loki’s knuckles. “Trauma. Trauma is a… thing.” She pursed her lips and looked up at him from under her eyebrows. “I know you don’t wanna act like the whole dying thing and Thanos thing…  _ bothers  _ you, and I get it. But I can tell it bothers you.”

 

The look Loki gave her was strange. For one, he was doing that thing again, where he looked serious and thoughtful and not pissed off or annoyed. It was just this side of vulnerable, and Darcy felt that strange warm feeling diffuse through her limbs again.  _ Red alert! Red alert! Go to bed, Darcy Lewis! _ She pulled her hands back and pushed to stand up. “Anyway, I gotta go to bed. Eight hours. You know.”

 

Loki stood too, on much steadier legs than her own, and looked as if he might reach out an arm to steady her. Darcy shook her head. “I’m fine! I’m great. Sober as… uh, sober-er than those guys.” She waved toward Bruce and Rocket.

 

Of course, when she went to round the corner of the table, she was not fine. She grazed it with her hip and stumbled. “Shit!”

 

Loki’s fast reflexes must have been unaffected by copious drinking, because Darcy stumbled right into him. He caught her by the arms while she regained her footing and there was that crackling warm feeling again, and Darcy felt the hairs on her arms and back of her neck stand up, and she was so  _ warm _ all of a sudden, and her head was light, and all she could hear was her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. She looked up. “Hey, th--”

 

She was cut off by Loki’s lips on her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! Thought I'd leave you lovelies with a couple of good smooches.


	11. Rule Number Two Is Don't Get Attached To...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hangovers are the worst. Especially when you gotta get ready to rendezvous on another planet.

He didn’t mean to kiss her.

 

Well, perhaps Loki _did_ mean to do it, after all. The height difference between them alone made the act fairly intentional, and he was embarrassed to admit to anyone (but especially to himself) that the idea had been growing in the back of his mind ever since Darcy bodily threw him to the ground with her accidental shield charm. Well, ever since she’d been so _close_ to him just after the fact when he’d gotten his admittedly childish retribution, and how flustered the proximity obviously made her. He wasn’t _new_ to the foibles of the inhabitants of Earth. Darcy Lewis wasn’t the first mortal individual who, as another one of Loki’s favorites had said, “doth protest too much.”

 

However, she was the first to profess an understanding of him to actually come close to the mark. It was a new feeling, the feeling of connection and understanding, or perhaps something he’d long since thought lost to him. _I guess I’ll have to go it alone. Like I’ve always done._ Words he'd said before echoed in his mind, and while he'd only half-meant them when he said them, he absolutely knew now that they were nonsense.

 

He only meant to catch her, to steady her on her feet and bid her a good night and leave it at that. But he could hear her breath catch and if he’d been holding on to her wrists he was fairly certain he’d feel her pulse racing and when she turned her face up to him, cheeks flushed and eyes wide and those _gods-damned_ full lips of hers parted, he made a choice. It was a choice fueled by emotion, which he normally preferred to leave out of his decision-making, and by alcohol, which he could normally hold better but not quite at the speed with which they’d all been drinking, but it was a choice all the same, and Loki was not the god of regrets.

 

No matter how resistant Darcy had seemed before, she’d clearly been harboring something, because Loki met absolutely no resistance now. There was surprise, yes; Darcy let out a noise that could only be described as an undignified squeak and Loki, against all reason, broke away and smiled at the sound. But when her shock wore off - and it wore off quickly - she responded with such fervor that one could have mistaken her for the initiator. She slid her hands up along his chest, then over his shoulders, then around to the back of his neck, and pressed herself flush against against him as she gave his bottom lip a none-too-gentle bite.

 

Loki couldn’t help himself and let out a groan as he took Darcy’s entire _everything_ as an invitation to let his hands roam. One was at the back of her head, fingers twining in her hair, and the other traced a line from her shoulders, down the curve of her back, until he came to the hem of her shirt. He pushed it up, only just, and lightly stroked the skin there. He was rewarded with a shiver and Darcy pressing even closer and he would have grinned but he wasn’t able because now Darcy was slipping her tongue inside his mouth and gods help him he groaned _again_ and responded in kind. He could feel _Darcy_ smiling, suddenly, and one of her hands was in _his_ hair and she _tugged_ at it and Loki was ready to pick her up and have her right then and there and his hand at her back slid lower and -

 

“Oh my God, I’m never gonna be able to unsee this.”

 

If Loki could, he would have killed that raccoon. Unfortunately, Thor was inexplicably fond of the creature. He reluctantly relaxed his hold on Darcy, and she backed away, eyes wide and lips swollen and cheeks flaming. She reached up to nervously push at her nonexistent glasses and blinked rapidly. “Shit. Shit. Uh, I gotta go.” She bit her lip when she looked at Loki again and turned and bolted.

 

Without even a glance back at Rocket - if he had turned to look, he would _certainly_ murder the beast - Loki stalked off to his own bunk.

 

* * *

 

 

Breakfast was disjointed, communal, and thoroughly embarrassing for more than one party involved. Bruce, for instance, was still asleep with his head on the table. A small puddle of drool had accumulated below his open mouth. When Darcy poked him awake, he raised his head and looked around, blinking and bleary-eyed. “I feel like I’m dead. Am I dead?”

 

Darcy winced. “Keep your voice down,” she muttered. “Like, to a whisper.”

 

Bruce wiped his face. “Told you I always lose that game.”

 

Val was as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as ever, for a woman who was all business and booze. She gave Bruce a slap on the back. “Morning, big guy.” She sat down at the table with a box of Pop-Tarts. She took a pack out and ripped them open as noisily as possible, much to the despair of Darcy and Bruce.

 

When Thor came in, looking decidedly more sheepish than Val had, Val simply tossed him the Pop-Tart box. He went from looking like the girl who lost her virginity on prom night to a grinning golden retriever as he started in on the toaster pastries, no toaster needed thank you very much. _Some things never change,_ Darcy thought.

 

She swore she could feel Loki walking in before she saw him. It was definitely a Thing that happened now, she was certain of it, and began to suspect that the feeling was magnified from what had happened the night before. It was that prickle again, and then she remembered how just his fingertips felt on the small of her back, and she shivered. She wished she had a cup of coffee to stare at. That usually made things easier.

 

A cup of coffee was then sat in front of her. She just stared at the hand that held it, the same fingers she’d just been thinking about, _goddamn those hands of his._ She studiously refused to look up. “Thanks,” she mumbled.

 

“Did you guys do it?” Rocket. Ever straightforward.

 

“No!” Darcy half-shouted as she started and jerked her head up and wrinkled her nose at Rocket. “How drunk were you? I know I was drunk.” She finally managed to get up the guts to look toward Loki. “So drunk. Anything can happen after a game like that, am I right? All kinds of bad decisions.”

 

Was that a _wounded_ expression? Darcy didn’t think Loki could get his feelings hurt, much less actually _show_ that they were hurt. She hurriedly brought the coffee up to her mouth and took a gulp. Her eyes welled up as she remembered just how fresh and scalding it actually was, but she wasn’t about to give anyone the satisfaction of hearing her yell about burning her tongue. She also had a feeling Rocket would have creative commentary on hot tongues, and she wasn’t ready to give him the satisfaction, either.

 

“Doing it aside,” Val said, with a sidelong glance at Thor. “We land on Xandar in two hours. I say we make sure everyone’s armed. We haven’t had any contact from the Nova Corps yet.”

 

Thor either didn’t see Val’s initial smirk or chose to ignore it. “Natasha said she has a contact.”

 

“Yeah, well, those Nova a-holes would’ve been up in our business by now,” Rocket interjected. “Either our comms don’t work or there’s no more Nova Corps.”

 

“I told you all this was a fool’s errand,” Loki muttered under his breath.

 

To everyone’s surprise, Darcy rounded on him. “You also said you didn’t have anything _better_ to do, didn’t you?” She finished her coffee and slammed the cup on the table for emphasis. “Maybe you can help us prepare for a sneak attack, since that seems to be your thing.” She stood up and marched over to refill her coffee cup and gave the group one last look when she reached the doorway. “I’ll be in the cargo bay if anyone needs me.” With that, she stormed off, once again certain she could feel Loki’s gaze burning into her back.

 

* * *

 

 

 _Logistically,_ thought Darcy, _we shouldn’t even have mornings and nights on this ship._ They were hurtling through space. They’d jumped beyond even the Milky Way, so keeping Earth time seemed a little… ridiculous. She wasn’t even sure what kind of days and nights and hours were kept on other planets, except maybe Asgard, but Asgard wasn’t exactly a reference point anymore. She definitely didn’t know what time worked like on Xandar. She sighed and sipped on her coffee, perched on the cargo bay bridge again, watching Thor and Korg and Rocket taking stock of their weapons. She mulled over the logic - or illogic - of how time worked. How days worked. How traveling between star systems worked.

 

It was easier to think about the particulars of intergalactic jet lag than it was to think about what happened the night before.

 

Try as she might, though, her mind kept flitting back to that kiss. She’d been thinking about climbing Loki like a tree for days now, so why did taking step one to achieving that goal feel suspiciously like a regret? It had been electric. Almost literally electric, at least on her end. She’d felt something sizzle and pop and course through her, like… like a jumper cable. It felt like the ringing tension when she sent out those first few uncontrolled blasts of magic, but this time when the tension broke _she_ would be the one hit by a wave of energy. Like she might implode. And she found that she wanted to implode. She wanted to discover how exactly it felt to put magic with magic. (She’d done her homework. There were extensive passages in the _seidr_ texts Loki had given her that had to do with sex magic. And she’d done quite a bit of fantasizing on how she could learn that particular art.) So why did she only feel sinking in the pit of her stomach now?

 

She looked up from her coffee, back down to the movement and commotion below as their descent began, and spotted Loki. He was a good distance away from everyone else, as usual, arms crossed and staring into space and brooding. Darcy was ready to mentally call him an asshole again, until she realized that she was doing virtually the same thing. She wondered if she could will him to look up at her, but before she could try, he did.

 

And the careful, blank look on his face felt like a punch in the gut.

 

Darcy frowned and stood up. There wasn’t any time for this kind of bullshit. _We’ve got an Iron Man search and rescue mission here. Fuck feelings._

 

She found Val up at the command deck. The other woman had her omnipresent bottle of brown in hand and was sitting in the captain’s chair, staring out at the fast-approaching planet below. She turned to Darcy. “Better sit down before we start the landing. It’s gonna get bumpy.”

 

Darcy sighed and plopped down in the other seat. “So how was your night?”

 

Val’s wicked grin was almost answer enough. “Surprised His Majesty could walk straight this morning.”

 

Despite her own bad luck in the sex department, Darcy couldn’t help but crack a smile. “You don’t strike me as the gentle type.”

 

“Oh I have… plans.” Val took a drink. She held the bottle out toward Darcy. “Want some?”

 

Darcy made a face. “Are you kidding? How can you even drink again this morning?”

 

This time, Val made a face, less disgusted and more withering. “Do you think a few cans of Midgardian piss are going to put me out of commission?”

 

“Point taken.” Darcy couldn’t help but sigh again as she stared back out the front window. “At least one of us got some action.”

 

Val kicked her feet up and leaned back. She was trying very hard to not look interested, and doing very badly at it. “Do tell.”

 

This just made Darcy grumpier. She scowled into her coffee and slouched down as far as she could in her seat. “It’s dumb. Don’t worry about it.”

 

“Suit yourself.” Val peered out the window. “Hold on tight. We’re entering atmo.”

 

Xandar was a planet that had been prosperous, once upon a time. What was left of the shining blue-green sphere was utterly wrecked in the wake of Thanos’ raze less than an Earth-year before. When Darcy looked out on it, she felt like she might be looking at a parallel Earth, a shell of itself that only existed by sheer force of will. Once, she might have called this force the human survival condition. Now, she knew it was simply the condition of all life, human or not. Her thoughts drifted along in this way for the entirety of their descent. The clouds of the atmosphere gave way to smoke from fires long-gone but still smoldering and the burned-out shells of ships littered the landscape. Reality hit her hard and fast, and she began to wonder if she needed to leave the ship. She didn’t want to leave the ship. She didn’t want to be on this mission and didn’t want to be able to do weird mutant magic anymore. She wanted to be back home in her shitty apartment, a box of wine and a crappy book to keep her company, safe and far away from heroic missions on galaxies she hadn’t even begun to fathom.

 

Her reverie was broken by Rocket hopping up into her lap and snapping his… fingers? Were they fingers? Darcy blinked. “Sorry. I’m coming.”

 

“You good, Lewis?” It was hard to see whether or not Rocket was showing concern. What do concerned raccoons look like, anyway? But his paws were on what were ostensibly his hips, and he was leaning toward Darcy. “Need me to stick a grenade in weasel-face’s pants?”

 

Darcy shook her head. “What? No!” She stood up as Rocket jumped to her shoulder. “He doesn’t have a weasel face.”

 

“Says you.” Rocket settled in on Darcy’s shoulder. “You say the word, though.”

 

All Darcy wanted to do was steer the conversation away from the individual who may or may not have a weaselly face. She started her descent to cargo, where everyone else waited, a tense hum of murmured conversations and clipped tones hanging in the air. She stopped at the top of the bridge stairs. “So what’s the plan?”

 

Rocket hopped on to the railing. “Thor’s gonna go with Korg and Miek to find this contact. We’re leavin’ mister seven PhDs on the ship with Val for the refuel. And you and me and weasel-face are takin’ care of supplies.” He gave Darcy a meaningful look. “Grenade. Pants. Think about it.”

 

“I’ll let you know.” Darcy’s heart threatened to hammer straight out of her chest. She’d never been on another planet before. Granted, she’d never been off Earth before, so spending a week on a spaceship straight out of a sci-fi show was already pushing her limits. Here she was, about to go boldly where no Darcy Lewis had gone before, and she’d looped around from nervous to anxious to euphoric to nervous again. The knife, which Val had helped her strap around her calf, seemed woefully inadequate, until she remembered that she could also throw magic around. _Oh right. I’m Badass Darcy now._ Nervousness started to slip away and something akin to giddy replaced it. _I’m Badass Darcy with my violent talking raccoon buddy. Hell yeah we’re doing this. Hell yeah it’s happening._

 

The shimmering bubble of giddiness popped, though, when Loki joined them. “No more surprises, Miss Lewis.”

 

 _Oh great. Back to the Miss Lewis crap._ Darcy did her best to look nonchalant. “‘Preciate it, Space Snape.” She put her hands on her hips and got at least a small stab of satisfaction at the long-suffering look on Loki’s face when she used the nickname. “You just let me know the plan from here on out.”

 

Before Loki could answer, the bay door lowered, and they all found themselves on the business end of a grotesquely large array of blasters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These jerks! What are they doing? WHY CAN'T THEY JUST ADMIT THEIR FEELINGS???
> 
> I mean, I guess there's more important things to take care of first, like not dying.
> 
> I have been SO TIRED this past week and it's made writing a struggle, so thanks for being patient while I work my way through this next bit of plotting and fun action-packed shenanigans.


End file.
